Nitimur in Vetitum
by Quatermass
Summary: Master of Death? Pfft. More like Death's lackey. Cast into another world, immortal, and still hurt from his friends and family's demise, Harry Potter is brought into Eruyt Village. There, he will become Jote's spy in Ivalice...and something more to Mjrn. Insanity, adventure, and pathos ensues, but can Harry help save Ivalice from the Undying Ones? Helps that he is immortal too...
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

One fanfic cliché that I haven't done with my Harry Potter fanfics yet is the 'immortal Master of Death' Harry story. I flirted with it a little in _Broken Tools_ and _Champion of Twilight_ , where the Deathly Hallows do have some effects on Harry, but nothing like the immortal, pseudo-invincible Harry many writers like to use.

This is about to change with this fic.

As I write this, it's the day after my massive Christmas update. It will be some considerable time before this story gets posted, though. That update marked the publishing of no less than four new stories, including what seems to be the first Harry Potter crossover with _Final Fantasy XII_ that was no slash. In all likelihood, this will be the second. And while _Ghost of Dalmasca_ was a more serious work, this is a more comedic work. It takes significant inspiration from _Getting Too Old For This_ and _The Green-Eyed Spectre_ , two crossovers with _Mass Effect_. Especially _Getting Too Old For This_ by a writer with the unique name of ManMadeofLasers. In fact, this will probably be one of my more humorous pieces, albeit still with drama and pathos.

Plus, I wanted to experiment a little with the Harry shipping. I wanted to do a Viera shipping, and Fran's taken by Balthier, and Jote has a massive stick where the sun doesn't shine, so, process of elimination, it's Mjrn. She gets kind of a raw deal in the game (an overly strict sister, experimentation by the Archadians, Venat mind-raping her, and then basically told to accept the gilded cage that is Eruyt Village by both of her sisters: I like Fran, but that is not her finest hour). And, ironically for this story having no slash, it has some small inspiration from one of the slash crossovers, _The Green Word_ , where Harry is raised by the Viera. That doesn't happen here, but the Viera do play something of a role in this story.

Oh, and the title means 'We Strive For the Forbidden'. It discusses Mjrn and Harry's mindset throughout, Mjrn through curiosity, and Harry through being a gadfly.

Anyway, time for the usual disclaimers. Firstly, there will be spoilers for both Harry Potter and _Final Fantasy XII_.

Secondly, there will be heavy annotations, as is usual for my works. You have been warned.

Thirdly, this is an M-Rated work. There will be coarse language, violence, and sexual references. Again, you have been warned.

Finally, the following is a fan-written work. Harry Potter and _Final Fantasy XII_ are the properties of their respective owners. Please support the official release. Otherwise, the Wood-Warders will use you in a recreation of the death of Saint Sebastian: turning you into an arrow pincushion…


	2. Chapter 1: Immortality is a Pain

**CHAPTER 1:**

 **IMMORTALITY IS A PAIN**

Nabudis, once a proud city, had fallen. First, figuratively, conquered by the forces of the Archadian Empire. Then, somewhat more literally, when some meddling with Deifacted Nethicite (a not uncommon occurrence in the world, as people tend to fuck around with things they don't understand, if only to try and understand them) caused the magical equivalent of a nuclear explosion. Soon, it would be dubbed a Necrohol, a Necropolis, a city of the dead, wreathed in mist and Mist.

It was not a place the Viera wanted to linger in. It was a place far away from their home deep within the Golmore Jungle, on the other side of Ivalice. It was only through a carefully-crafted Teleport Stone that they travelled here. It was only through the direction of Jote, their leader, that they even consented to coming here, for a Viera that left the Wood was in danger of losing the Wood's favour. Only the assurance that they would not forfeit the Wood's favour quelled the worst of their qualms. And even then, they still had them. Perhaps one of the sanest qualms was that they were entering a former warzone saturated with Mist, which could potentially drive Viera into a Mist-Frenzy.

The Wood-Warders chosen for the job were given a description of their quarry. Actually, quarry suggested an enemy. The Wood told them they were seeking for the Chosen One of the Leveller. A Hume in appearance, but the servant of one of the most important deities of all.

They viewed the corpses of the dead with a detached air, and moved on. Humes and Bangaa and Seeq seemed to all rush headlong into the abyss. It was presumably that which led to Nabudis falling.

They came to a rubble-strewn room. They had been told to follow their senses, and they had led them here. But all they found was a corpse, half-crushed under rubble. And what looked like relatively fresh rubble at that, less than a minute fallen. They were about to write the whole thing off and head back to Eruyt Village when the hand of the corpse twitched. Then, the rubble shifted, falling off the rising form of the corpse, whose head was grotesquely mashed into pulp on one side. Limbs were macabrely twisted and broken. But it didn't stay that way for long.

The corpse seemed to reform, the broken and distorted features seeming to flow back together before the horrified Wood-Warders' eyes, who raised their bows, aiming the nocked arrows at it. He soon seemed to be a healthy Hume male in his twenties with dark hair, green eyes, a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead (the distinguishing mark they were told to look out for), and an irritated expression on his face. "Cowboy bloody builders," he muttered.

Unfortunately, his voice was all that was needed for one of the Wood-Warders, spooked by what had happened, to loose her arrow. It lodged, vibrating with a comical twang, right through his heart. He looked down at it with an expression of annoyance, and then at the Wood-Warder. "Oh for fuck's sa…" He didn't get to finish his sentence, as he collapsed to the floor, dead again.

The leader snapped, "What did you do that for?!"

"He's a revenant! You know what we do to revenants!" the Wood-Warder retorted, albeit with a quaver in her voice.

"Lemme guess, kill them with fire, break apart the bones, salt them, and bury them at crossroads?"

The voice was definitely that of the Hume they had just killed, and it was coming from the corpse, who was pulling the arrow out of his chest. It came loose with a rather wet noise, and then he got back to his feet…only for a hail of arrows to hit him. "Fuck me, not ag…" was as far as he got before he collapsed to the ground. Again. And then got set on fire by a Fire spell.

The leader sighed. Unnerved as she was by the sight, she got a feeling they had screwed up. "Did it ever occur to you that this may be the Hume we are looking for? He's meant to be the Chosen One of the Leveller, blessed with the gift of immortality."

"Cursed, more like." This sentence came out in a pained rasp, and they watched as the charred corpse got shakily to his feet, and began plucking the arrows from his roasted flesh, which began regenerating. "Let's see, over the past few days alone, I got skewered by a sword swung by an overenthusiastic Dalmascan soldier who forgot that I was on his side…bloody accent, makes them think I'm Archadian. Where was I? Oh yes. Got hit by a magical nuke practically at ground zero, and once I recovered from being vaporised, I have the roof fall on me." By this point, he had removed most of the arrows, the last being stuck in his groin, which he plucked out with a yelp of pain, and flung away. He was now back to normal, though his clothes were now little more than charred rags. "And then, when I recover from that, I get turned into an arrow pincushion by the fucking Bunny Squadron(1)! Twice! I even got roasted the second time into the bargain! Is this revenge for those rabbits I had to catch and cook while we were finding the Horcruxes?!"

It was hard to tell how much of what he was ranting about was derangement, and how much was actual grievance. The leader of the Wood-Warder decided to cut him off before he started ranting again. His angered ranting was hurting her ears. She cleared her throat pointedly, and said, "We were directed to find the Chosen One of the Leveller." Upon his bemused scowl, she clarified, "In Hume tongue, Death's Chosen."

The man's scowl deepened. "Oh yeah. Great. I've only been here for less than a week, and already someone knows. Master of Death my arse. I'm her whipping boy, that's what. The Grim Reaper's Gofer." He then glared at the leader. "So, tell me, why were you directed to find me, eh?"

"The voice of the Wood directed us to find you. Now, come, we're wasting time."

"Wait…you were directed to find me…and then, when you do, you turn me into a Greater-Arrowed Porcupine and set me on fire? Yeah, thanks but no thanks. Don't get me wrong, Viera are kind of sexy if you don't mind rabbit ears and stilettos, but I just want some peace and quiet, away from Destiny and Fate and War. So the only way you're getting me there is over my dead body."

He seemed to realise his mistake as soon as he said it, because the leader then said, "Okay, fire at will."

Once again, he got peppered with arrows. The Hume had just enough time to say, "I'm not Will. I'm Harry Potter, and…" before he collapsed again.

This time, they tied him up with chains before he started to regenerate…

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

Viera, Harry Potter reflected, must be amongst the most patient and tolerant of people, once you got past the itchy trigger-fingers with their longbows (bowstring-fingers?), because after the first couple of his saying this, they were ignoring him. They were basically like the elves of Tolkien, if they were sexy dark-skinned women with bunny ears, white hair and long feet in stiletto heels. How they could walk or run in those, he had no idea, but they managed, and he was impressed. Oh, and they seemed to have accents that were vaguely Icelandic. He'd seen and met a couple in Nabudis before everything went south. They were certainly better company than this lot.

Ironically for being real bunny women, they were dressed in ways that he was sure wouldn't look out of place on a Playboy Bunny. Some of the 'armour' on these Wood-Warders looked like they didn't cover enough to be practical for combat. And as he was dragged through the paths of Eruyt Village, a magnificent village built amongst trees, many of the inhabitants wore even less. Ron would be drooling over them more than he would over a Veela.

Harry scowled at the thought of Ron and Hermione, or rather, their deaths, along with that of his wife and children. They died, while he lived on. Unable to die. Voldemort desired all three of the Deathly Hallows, thinking it would make him immortal and invincible. Harry, who had wanted none of either, just a normal life, got what Voldemort had always wanted. The irony was not lost on the Boy Who Lived. Master of Death? Yeah, right. More like her errand boy, at best. It's why, when his ashes were hurriedly dumped through the Veil, he wasn't sent to the other side, but to this fantasy world. Then, Death had the gall to say something along the lines of _Wait here. I'll send someone along to pick you up soon_.

He was dragged along in his chains until he was brought before a Viera who reminded him of McGonagall at her strictest…if McGonagall was a sexy bunny-eared woman. Or maybe Hermione at her strictest. Yeah, probably a better analogy. Maybe Percy? Well, in attitude, possibly, but the thought of Percy Weasley as a sexy bunny-eared woman was somewhat nightmarish, even more than McGonagall. She looked to be in her early thirties at the latest, but what little he knew about Viera suggested that she could very well be much older. Her white hair was a shoulder-length cascade. She seemed to be a leader of some sort, despite wearing no headgear or much sign that she was a leader. "Are you the Chosen of the Leveller, the Servant of Death?"

"More like Death's Bitch," Harry responded merrily. "Harry Potter, most definitely not at your service, Miss…?"

"Jote. And the Wood told me otherwise."

Harry stared at her, before emitting a cracked, braying laugh. "What're you smoking? Seriously, you've got to give me a try, 'cause it sounds like pretty strong shit."

"My apologies, Jote," the leader of the Wood-Warders group said as Jote stared at Harry incredulously. "His irreverence and insolence, to put it mildly, knows no bounds. Half of his words seem tailored to irritate and anger the listener."

"Really? I would've said two-third at least, myself," Harry remarked. Then, he glared at Jote. "Considering they turned me into a fucking archery target not once, not twice, but three times, as well as roasting me and tying me up into the bargain, I think they got off lightly."

Jote then looked at the Wood-Warders leader, who said, shamefaced, "When we found him originally, he had been crushed under rubble. He revived and regenerated, and given our stance on revenants and undead…"

"I see." Jote took a deep breath to try and calm herself. Harry then stood up, and shrugged the chains off, and then conjuring some clothes to replace the charred remnants he had been wearing. The Wood-Warders boggled. Jote stared, before she pinched the bridge of her nose with a clawed finger. "You…did that with magic, right?"

"Yes."

"And you could have escaped at any time."

"Of course."

"Then my question is, Hume, why didn't you?"

"Curiosity. Boredom. A desire to extract revenge for being repeatedly turned into a pincushion by rabbit women, probably through some pranks. Take your pick." To himself, he mused, _Can't do the vanishing clothes trick on these ones, though. It looks like their nudity taboo, rather like Draco Malfoy's dick, is small to non-existent_. Out loud, he said, "Besides, how often do humans come to your village?"

"Few Humes, or indeed any outsiders, are suffered willingly."

"I guess I should feel privileged, but being made into a human pincushion does tend to let all the gratitude and privilege out. Along with blood. Anyway, why would you 'suffer' me at all?"

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself," Jote said, pinching the bridge of her nose again. "The Wood told me to bring you here, apparently in preparation for some task. This is the first time I have questioned her judgement since I have become leader of Eruyt Village."

"Eh, better sceptical bunny women than the sheeple back home," Harry said with a shrug. "The moment they hear a prophecy, they drop everything to fulfil it. Well, not exactly, but it felt like it. It's how I got my rakishly attractive collection of scars, starting with the one on my noggin."

"Jote, who is this?" came a new voice, sounding vaguely younger (well, as young as you can be with long-lived bunny women who all looked to be in their twenties to early thirties). Another Viera approached, her hair cut in a relatively short bob.

"Heyooo(2)!" Harry said with a faux-cheery wave.

"This…is Harry Potter, Mjrn. The Chosen of the Leveller. And he is a pain in the…" Jote stopped herself before she could say anything further.

Harry, however, felt like living dangerously. As he often did since learning of his immortality. "Jote, that's not me. That's the thirty-foot staff up your…" He was interrupted by the arrow that went through his skull.

* * *

He blacked out, as he did when this happened, and was treated to the sight of Death laughing.

People didn't know this, but Death didn't go in for the whole skeleton with a scythe look most of the time. In fact, since Harry first met her, she wore the looks of his mother, Lily Potter, though she seemed to have the eccentricity and energy of the Tenth Doctor, and the dark sense of humour of Kerr Avon(3).

"Laugh it up, Reaper," Harry groaned.

"What? It's always funny to see you shoot your mouth off, only to suffer the consequences. Seriously, you were reckless before, but…well, you must be suicidal."

Harry scowled. "It's not funny to laugh at other's deaths."

"Well, a few times it is. What do you think the Darwin Awards are there for? Anyway, you're not dead. And you aren't going to be any time soon. Not permanently, anyway. Besides, you have a tendency to run headlong into trouble." Then, Death became solemn and serious. "Anyway, I sent you here because, well, Nabudis was only the beginning. Two years from now, things will really start heating up, thanks to the Occuria. You think Dumbledore was bad in the manipulation stakes, think an entire race of Dumbledores, only they have androgynous voices and look like floating armour with glowing eyes. And unlike Dumbledore, they don't remotely mean well. Well, save for a rebel called Venat, and he…she…they…dammit, gender pronouns are so confusing. Anyway, Venat's helping out the Archadians. Venat's motives are well-intentioned, but there's going to be a lot of bloodshed before the reins of history are put firmly back into the hands of Man. Venat's words, not mine."

"Oh, great," Harry groaned. "And I've got to stop it?"

"Help change things around so that less lives are lost. Hey, don't worry. You're getting something out of it. I know Ginny still holds a big place in your heart. And let's be honest, for all her fangirl tendencies, she did good in the end. But, well, you are pretty much immortal now, and you need someone who will help keep you on an even keel. You did go a little crazy after your friends' deaths. I'm setting you up with someone who isn't a fangirl, who's a little like you when you were young, naïve, curious about the world…" Death conjured up an image of Eruyt Village. "Mjrn is not actually ill-treated. Her sister is strict, but means well. But Eruyt, to the free-spirited, is every bit as much a cage as the cupboard the Dursleys put you into. Eruyt Village is stifling her. She yearns to go down the same path as her other sister, Fran, but that in itself is not for her. What she needs is a path where she can be guided down, between the dangers of absolute freedom, and the certainty of the cage."

"And you think I can help her?"

"I know you can. Okay, well, this metaphysical instant's almost up, so I'd better let you get to pulling that arrow out of your skull. Have fun."

* * *

He woke up in time to see Jote saying, "…insolent, but it is best that you do not do that…oh. That is…disturbing." This last was said when she noticed Harry coming back to life.

"You think that's bad?" Harry groaned, getting back to his feet, and then pulling the arrow out of his skull. "This is considerably more painful than it looks," he said almost conversationally, as if discussing the weather.

Jote blinked for a moment, before saying, "Yes. Mjrn, until I feel ready to endure another dose of irreverence and madness, he is under your care. Take him to our dwelling for the time being."

"Yes, sister," Mjrn said with a brief bow. There was a slight eagerness in her body language. Harry, for a brief moment, felt a thrill of terror. Then, he realised there was no way in hell she could be a fangirl. He had only been in this world for a very short while, and hadn't had enough time to build a reputation. No, she was just curious because he was a Hume, presumably their word for human, and thus novel in this isolated community. That, and he had just survived getting shot through the head with an arrow. You'd either be disgusted, frightened, or curious…or a combination of the above.

You could see all three glittering in her eyes. Harry sighed. It seemed like this was going to be a long quest…

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **A lot of dark comedy here. It should set the tone for this story. Harry as basically a saner and more handsome Deadpool. Hope you enjoy. Most of the next chapter will be written from Mjrn's point of view, and you'll learn more about what happened to Harry's family and friends.**

 **1\. Long ago, I watched the Escapist Magazine series** ** _Unskippable_** **(think video game cutscenes meet MST3K), and for** ** _Final Fantasy XII_** **, upon seeing Viera, they say "Unleash the Bunny Squadron!" This was a sort of reference to this.**

 **2\. Yes, Harry is channelling Steve from** ** _Borderlands_** **.**

 **3\. I had Death make an appearance in the penultimate chapter of my fic** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **, and while initially inspired by Neil Gaiman's take on Death from his comic series** ** _The Sandman_** **, she basically became Lily Potter with the behaviour of David Tennant's Doctor. I used the same principle here, but modified it to give her a more darkly comic edge.**


	3. Chapter 2: Madness and Mjrn

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **MADNESS AND MJRN**

As she brought the Hume back to their dwelling, Mjrn watched him. Superficially, he seems so young. What little she knows of Humes lead her to believe, initially, that he is in his twenties, and rather attractive by Hume standards. Messy black hair frames a handsome, if somewhat haggard face. Emerald eyes, like the green of the Wood herself, twinkle beneath lenses mounted in some sort of frame on his face. Half-hidden by the fringe of hair is a faded but noticeable jagged scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

But you saw something in his eyes that shouldn't belong to a Hume his age. The eyes danced with madness, true, but there was also pain and age and wisdom, of a sort.

Mostly madness, though.

As she led him inside, he muttered, "Luna would love this place. Rabbit women, right up her alley. Mjrn, there are male Viera, aren't there?"

"Yes, but they have separate settlements. We only meet to trade and to…" She coughed, a little embarrassed.

"Ah, to mate," the Hume said in a chipper manner. "So, you're at it like rabbits?" On her mortified look, he said, apologetically, "Never mind. Sorry, we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Death's Lackey, and the only surviving member of the New Marauders. Is Mjrn your only name, or do you have family names?"

Mjrn shook her head. "No family name. I have…had two older sisters. Jote is my eldest sister. My other sister, Fran, no longer walks amongst us. The last we heard from the Wood, she is now partner to a Hume."

"Hume…that means human, right? Like me? You're a Viera, and I saw Seeq and Bangaa at Nabudis…oh, and Moogles. Any others? I'm from another world where these people don't exist."

Mjrn hesitated, before she realised the question was genuine. She was bemused at how casually he threw out the fact that he was from another world, though. "There are the Nu Mou. They are amongst the only people we willingly suffer to enter Eruyt. There are the Baknamy, which we do not, nor do any people of Ivalice. There are others, like the Helgas, the Garif, the Rev, and the Urutan-Yensa(1)."

"Huh. I guess I got a lot of reading to do." He seemed to pluck, from out of nowhere, a seemingly small satchel. He reached into it, and began, impossibly, pulling books from it. "Let's see… _Survival of the Strongest_ by Judge-Magister Bergan…Merlin, no thanks! The latest _Clan Centurio Almanac_ by Montblanc…hmm, might be readable. Might actually be informative. _Perilous Juggling_ by the Marquis Halim Ondore… _no_. Dammit, I picked the most intact books from the library, but not necessarily the best ones." He peered at another title. " _Zen and the Art of Airship Maintenance_ by Cidolfas Demen Bunansa. Huh. Might be entertaining and/or soothing. Aha! _The Encyclopaedia Ivalicia_." About half a dozen thick, hardbound books tumbled out of the satchel, one landing heavily on his foot, in accordance with the laws of slapstick. He clutched his foot, and his mouth was open in a silent snarl of pain.

"Where did you get these from?" Mjrn asked, curious despite herself.

"The Nabudis Library, what was left of it. After everything got nuked, and my body reformed from basically smoke and ashes, very unpleasant, Death suggested I raid the library to find out more about Ivalice. I then left, and decided to take a breather in one of the chambers…only for the roof to fall on me. That's when your Bunny Squadron found me."

"…Bunny Squadron? You mean the Wood-Warders?"

"I presume so. They have itchy bowstring fingers," Harry scowled. "I may be immortal, or near enough, but it's painful and unpleasant to regenerate from wounds, mortal or not. Then again, it's better than regenerating from ashes. I've done that three times now, the latest being at Nabudis. And it's not fun."

"I would not have thought so," Mjrn said diplomatically.

"It isn't." He plucked one volume of the encyclopaedia from the small pile, looked at the spine, and then began flicking through it. Judging by his mutterings, he was looking up Viera first of all. "Dammit, I miss Wikipedia," he murmured.

Mjrn was at a loss for what to do, but then, she realised that she was effectively his host, and needed to be hospitable. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

"Water, juice, but little in the way of alcohol. That is only brewed for special occasions."

"Probably just as well. The last time I got drunk, a dozen people died. Albeit bastards, the lot of them. And I got a major hangover afterwards. Still, better to live with regrets than not to live at all. Just some water will do, thanks, Mjrn."

As she went to pour water into a cup, she said, "You look young for a hume, but your eyes are ancient."

A bitter chuckle. "You're sharp, especially for someone relatively young amongst the Viera. Actually, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you, anyway?"

Mjrn felt little offense at that. "By Hume reckoning, I am five and seventy years. I am still viewed as an impetuous youth amongst our people. And you?"

Harry chuckled again. "Well, as I was so bold to ask your age, I should answer you. I'm seventy-three. It's not healthy living, surgery, or virtue that does that, though. It's being Death's lackey. Humans don't normally look like this when they're at that age. Even so…" Harry looked at Mjrn, and smiled, trying to banish the darkness from his face. "Viera pull it off much better. I'm sure my godfather would have loved your people."

"Does he appreciate beauty?" Mjrn asked as she pressed the cup of water into his hand gently.

"Well, you could say that. Frankly, he was a bit of a lech."

"Lech?" The word was unfamiliar to Mjrn's ears.

"Lecherous. As in, he showed overt signs of lust, often to an amusing or disgusting degree. Not that badly, but at times, well…" Harry shrugged. "He died. They all died. And I live on. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Teddy, Neville, Luna…and there was Sirius, Remus, Tonks…taken from me by malice. My only regret is that I never managed to get rid of all of those bastards who took them from me." He looked at her, and gave a rather pained smile. "Sorry, you don't want to hear my life story."

"Actually, I'm curious," Mjrn admitted.

"Another time then. Once I know you a little better. It's a painful story to tell, and a painful one to listen to, even before I became the so-called Master of Death. By the way, thanks for the water." He sipped from the cup. "I mean, I prefer alcohol, to try and scrub away the memories. But all it does is get me drunk. Brain bleach doesn't work when your memories are abstract and your brain cells regenerate, exactly how they are. Plus, as I said, last time I got drunk, people died. A new generation of would-be Death Eaters, true, but, well, any drunken state that ends with a lot of corpses is not really a good state."

"Death Eaters?"

"Racist nutjob mages who think magic should belong only to families who have had it for ages. I'll tell you later." Another sip of water from the cup. Then, he looked out of the window, to the Wood beyond, and Eruyt Village nestled amongst the trees. "So serene and quiet here," he murmured softly.

"Indeed," Mjrn said. She didn't add that at times, she found it boring, though when their eyes met briefly, he seemed to understand that. He gave her another painful smile, albeit with sympathy. It was one of the most understanding and welcoming smiles, despite the pain behind it, she had ever seen.

* * *

At a loss for something to do for the moment, Mjrn was eventually given another volume of that book to read. _The Encyclopaedia Ivalicia_ turned out to be strange but informative, though it took her some time to get used to the small print Humes seemed fond of for their books. It was still the Common language, though.

She had been given, probably by coincidence, a volume running from 'G' to 'J'. She read the entry for Golmore Jungle, but was far from impressed by the description of the Viera Wood-Warders as belligerent (though calling them aloof and arrogant wasn't far off the mark, she reflected). Flicking through, she found the entry on the Garif, and was a little more interested by the entry on those. She was so absorbed in the encyclopaedia, that she didn't sense Jote approaching until she cleared her throat a few times.

As Mjrn looked up to find Jote peering down at her, with a single eyebrow raised quizzically, Harry said, "I think I have the recipe of a good throat medicine." As Jote turned to glare at Harry, he added, "Still, better a sexy rabbit-eared woman doing that than a hideous toad woman."

"A toad woman?" Jote asked.

"Very long story," Harry said, a very strong tone of bitterness underlying that understatement. "Be thankful you will never see the hideous features or cardigan of Dolores Umbridge. She used to go 'hem, hem' all the time. Of course, her throat was the least of her problems. Think of the worst tendencies of Humes, without any theft or murder or rape. And think of that woman in a position of power." He blinked. "Wait, I've got a Pensieve somewhere, I can always show you later."

"A Pensieve?" Jote asked. It was strange, Mjrn thought, to see Jote asking questions. She often answered them, or brushed them aside.

Harry reached into the satchel he had pulled the books from, and, impossibly, pulled out what looked like a stone basin on a plinth. "You put your memories into this, and can watch them again at your leisure. Like memory lane meets Netflix…oh wait, you wouldn't get that."

"I see," Jote said, intrigued and interested, though she clearly didn't understand what 'Netflix' was any more than Mjrn did. "Like a scrying pool, but one which you fill with your memories and experience."

"Exactly. Anyway, sorry to interrupt your conversation with your sister. Do you want privacy, or…?"

"I will take my sister from here for the moment," Jote said. "Mjrn, come with me."

Mjrn followed her sister out of their dwelling, and they continued for a moment, before Jote halted them, out of earshot of Harry. "What are your thoughts, sister?" she asked as they looked out over Eruyt, nestled within the depths of Golmore Jungle.

"On Harry? I don't know. He claims to be three and seventy years of age. You cannot see it in his mien, but his eyes…"

"Tell a different story. Indeed," Jote said, looking back at their dwelling. "I spoke to the Wood after you two left. His youth has been preserved by the Leveller. He may be immortal. He is certainly no revenant. He is unable to die, but it does not mean he is undead. The Wood is…ambivalent about his presence. He is a Hume, and there are few we will willingly suffer within our village. And he has much of the chaotic about him, and he will disrupt our peace, even if it is only with his prattling tongue. And yet…the Wood senses the soul of a truly great hero within him. A damaged soul, one tainted by darkness and madness, but a hero nonetheless. The Wood also believes that the paths of your future and his may converge. And that those paths may lead out of Eruyt. That worries me, Mjrn. For every one of our kind that leaves the Wood for Ivalice at large, the Wood mourns, and I share her sorrow."

"But it was the Wood who directed us to bring him here in the first place," Mjrn protested.

"I know. But the Wood thinks that he may be our greatest champion. He cares little for our traditions, and has the buzzing, impatient mind of a Hume, even at his age. But the Wood can see his heart. If people he cares about are in danger, he will do everything he can to save them…or descend to the lowest infernal pit to avenge them." Jote then looked at Mjrn. "And I am not blind to the evils of Ivalice, Mjrn. If what the Wood-Warders said about Nabudis was any indication, then it seems like there will be a bloody war soon, on a par with Raithwall's war of conquest. While the Wood should be safe…it would be good to have someone who will be our eyes and ears outside even the realm of the Wood-Warders."

Mjrn blinked. "But, it is forbidden for us to leave the Wood without her explicit consent."

"For we Viera, true. But the Hume is not so attached." Jote gave a slight smile. "He can even act as our liaison with Fran. She may have abandoned the Wood, but she can still help the Wood." She looked back at their dwelling. "Despite this, he is disturbingly eccentric…even by the standards of a Hume."

As if on cue, they heard him snarl, as if it was an expletive, "NARGLES!"

For a moment, the two sisters stood there, before Mjrn asked, "Should we ask about…?"

Jote shook her head. "No. Whatever derangement he has might be infectious. We will suffer him in our home, but we will have to be careful what we speak to him about, lest we detest the answer…"

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Mjrn studies Harry, and the faintest glimmerings of their destiny appear. Next chapter, some Mjrn/Harry fluff.**

 **1\. Most of those are recognisable, but the Rev include the leonine retainers to Ondore, and the Heglas includes the Gran Kilitas.**


	4. Chapter 3: A Conversation at Night

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **A CONVERSATION AT NIGHT**

It was a month since Harry had been brought to Eruyt Village. On the one hand, he would have been bored out of his skull, if it weren't for the books he rescued from Nabudis. On the other hand, the village was admittedly soothing and relaxing. Some of it was the peace and quiet, the gentle serenity of the houses nestled amongst the tree trunks. Some of it was the natural beauty of the forest around them.

And some of it was watching bunny-eared women strutting around in little more than stilettos and clothing that was akin to lingerie.

Of course, many of them viewed him with suspicion or disdain. He got the feeling he was tolerated rather than welcomed. Jote confirmed this. For all of her having a thirty-foot pole up her admittedly callipygian arse, she was honest with him, and at least made an effort to make him feel, if not welcome, then wanted. And she was also a font of knowledge about the Viera and their traditions, and he was thankful to her for preventing a number of _faux pas_. Unlike his entry into Magical Britain, he had someone here to help him with the customs. He was sure Jote did it more to keep the peace than anything else.

Of course, it didn't stop him from pranking them occasionally. Including the Wood-Warders, after they had turned him into a pincushion. Like setting off hair-dyeing charms on them. He learned some interesting expletives that day.

A few Viera, however, viewed him with curiosity and interest, even some happiness, if only because he was something novel and new. Mjrn especially. In fact, she was probably his only friend amongst the Viera. Okay, so Death was trying to set him up with her, given her earlier comments. But it didn't hurt that, besides the whole sexy bunny-eared woman thing, she was both good-natured and curious, and actually listened to him. And he knew that she was interested in him, in more ways than one. He just wanted to take it slow. Ginny's ghost was not easy to dismiss, after all.

He remembered Death's words about Eruyt being almost as much a cage as the cupboard the Dursleys made him sleep in. And frankly, she wasn't too wrong. It was very much a gilded cage, one that many would be happy to live in. And it wasn't actually a prison per se as much as it was a community that wanted to be isolated from a chaotic world. It was like the Wizarding World in miniature, minus the Death Eaters, though the disdain towards anything 'other' was certainly there. But it was more like elves wanting to be isolated from the world. He could understand their reasons, and Jote was at least patient enough to discuss, even debate the matter with him.

But for someone like Mjrn, Eruyt Village was a cage. And to be honest, it was to him too.

One night, he couldn't sleep, not after a bad nightmare where he saw his family being annihilated by Fiendfyre, the eldritch flames consuming their flesh. And they were screaming at him, demanding that he save them, and blaming him when he couldn't. So he left the dwelling of Jote and Mjrn, and walked to the fountain in the Spiritwood, the part of Eruyt which could be considered a village square.

The fountain was where the Viera went to meditate every day. He didn't see much point, himself. Meditation never really worked for him. If he wanted to relax, he'd read a book. But for once, he sat near it, and listened to the sounds it made.

He heard the approach of someone else long before they sat down next to him. "Your sleep is troubled," came the unexpected voice of Jote.

"It has been for a long time," Harry admitted. "Even before I became marked by Death. I used to have nightmares of my parents dying. I remember my mother screaming, her murderer laughing, and a green light. I'm amazed I even remember that much, I was only one year old at the time. I remembered a lot more whenever I encountered Dementors." On Jote's look, he explained, "Creatures that cause your worst memories to come to the fore, sucking the happiness from you. And if they think they can, they will also take your soul."

"Horrible creatures," Jote said. "Why a green light?"

Harry chuckled bitterly. "Because the Killing Curse, _Avada Kedavra_ , shines bright green. Here, green light is a vital magic. But back home, it means 'duck for cover, or you're dead'. I was the first person known to survive it. That's how I became known as the Boy Who Lived, even though it was something my mother did. Famous before I was out of nappies. And Dumbledore left me with my relatives to shield me from my fame. And you know what my relatives did."

"Treated you like a thrall," Jote said. He had told her a little about his life before.

"Yeah. The Dursleys weren't the worst Humes…but they were certainly not good examples by any means. Looking back, it's remarkable I ended up at Hogwarts remotely sane. Anyway, I saw my family dying again. We were always in danger because I was a great hero who had stopped Voldemort again, but there were many who wanted revenge. One day, they succeeded. My wife, my children, many of my best friends and their children…they were all killed when someone used Fiendfyre on our home. I regenerated, despite being burned to ashes…but I had lost my family, and I couldn't get them back. I was already treated with suspicion, as while I tried to hide my lack of aging, some people noticed. When I survived, I was viewed as Dark. Not for the first time. But I showed them how Dark I could be."

"You took revenge." It was no accusation, or even a question. She simply stated it as if she had seen his life already.

"Yes. Ironically, the one who helped me most was once my most bitter enemy at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy, however, had gotten used to a quiet life, albeit with political machinations. The ones who attacked me were rocking the boat, and he helped me track them down to get rid of them. But they eventually lured me into a trap, used Fiendfyre on me again while I was trapped in a room, and gathered up my ashes and dumped them through the Veil. I reformed in your world, just outside Nabudis. And, well, you know what happened there."

Jote listened. It had the cathartic air of a confession, that whole speech. Eventually, she said, "You still feel the hurt, don't you? It is like a phantom limb, a part of you forever severed, but still tickling maddeningly at your mind. Your family and friends burned away from you. I too know this pain. My parents died when we were still young by Viera standards, and I had to raise my sisters myself. When Fran left us, it felt like another loss, for a Viera who leaves the Wood is dead in our eyes. That is why I am concerned about your friendship with Mjrn. I am sure it pains Fran to be severed from the Green Word as much as it pains me to consider her lost to us. But your friendship with Mjrn may lead to another loss."

"At the risk of sounding trite and pseudo-philosophical, life is loss. Life is change, filled with loss and gains. Besides, you're older than I am. I'm not saying you should be used to loss, or that it should be easier, but you should be ready to feel its sting. Just saying. I think I heard in a movie somewhere once that 'life is pain: anyone who tells you differently is selling you something(1)'."

"Movie? Oh, you mean these recorded plays you spoke of before." Jote looked up at the sky, silently for a time, before she said, quietly, "It is not for my sake that I say this, Harry, nor is this for the sake of Eruyt or the Wood. I speak as a concerned sister. Mjrn knows even less of pain and loss than I. I know you think her stifled within Eruyt, and I even agree to an extent. But what pain and loss will she suffer should she venture out of the Wood? And should you become infatuated with each other, only to separate, how much more pain and loss will she know?"

"You don't want me to hurt her, is that it?" Harry said. Upon seeing Jote nod, Harry said, "I can't guarantee that I won't hurt her inadvertently. But I don't want to, Jote. I may be more than a little mad, but I know better than to try and inflict such things on her, because I've gone through a lot of loss and pain." He emitted a bitter chuckle. "Actually, there's a curse on my world that inflicts the most profound agony, the Cruciatus Curse. It's one of the most painful things I have ever endured. But it's nothing compared to the pain of a broken heart."

"So you understand what I am asking?"

"Try not to play with Mjrn's feelings, and don't start any serious relationship with her unless I'm sure of it," Harry said.

Jote nodded. "Then you do understand." She looked to the sky again, mostly hidden by the canopy of the Wood. "One thing I will ask of you, regardless of whether you ensnare the heart of my sister, is that you be our eyes and ears in Ivalice. A Hume would raise fewer questions than a Viera. And given the Cloak that you have used on occasion for your puerile pranks…"

"Hey, those were high art."

"Highly irritating, certainly," Jote retorted. "But the Cloak gives you stealth, a veritable boon for any spy. Would you agree to be one for us?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, as long as I get to prank others in the outside world. And as long as you don't object to giving Mjrn the choice to leave the Wood, but an informed decision. If she wishes to stay in Eruyt, fine. If she wishes to travel, then also fine. But I think she should be given a choice nonetheless. I mean, you choose to be the leader of Eruyt Village, don't you?"

"Not exactly. Who shall lead us if I do not? I have people I can train for the position, true, but there are few who are worthy, who can truly hear the Green Word."

Harry nodded. At first, he thought she was like any other person who claimed to have a hotline to a god. But Death disabused him of that notion. The Wood did exist as an entity. She was also, in Death's words (not that Harry disagreed) a stuck-up, jealous, possessive little bitch who didn't want her worshippers wandering off. Harry decided that voicing this to Jote was a bad idea. For all her being stuck-up herself, she was at least trying to be the best leader for Eruyt that she could be.

"I suggest coming back to your bed, Harry," Jote said. "Nightmares never go away, but they are merely phantoms brought up by your mind, with few exceptions." She stood, and reached to him with her clawed hand. He took her hand, and got up.

* * *

Mjrn couldn't sleep either, but she didn't go to the fountain like Harry or Jote did. Instead, she closed her eyes, and tried to go back to sleep. She heard her sister and Harry return, though, and watched through the barest crack in her eyelid. For a moment, she felt a pang of jealousy in her breast, an emotion she had only felt when thinking about Fran and her freedom beyond the Wood. She didn't know why she felt this jealousy, as she was sure that there was nothing between Harry and Jote. And yet, it was there.

Harry slid back into his bed, while Jote retired to her own. And Mjrn watched as Harry fell into sleep. Or try to anyway. Whatever demons had woken him from his slumber saw fit to keep him out of said slumber.

He was perhaps her only friend in Eruyt. Fran's departure had robbed her of one of her only friends, and Jote, while she loved Mjrn, treated her like a child, always. It was so unfair.

But she also knew that Harry was going to be groomed to be Eruyt's eyes and ears outside the Wood. And she was also certain, come hell or highwater, that she would accompany him outside. Her heart yearned for the novel and the new. And only outside Eruyt would she get it…

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **A conversation between Harry and Jote. I did this to show that Jote, despite the stick up her arse, is a decent person. Just too traditional and set in her ways. We'll have some more Harry/Mjrn in the next chapter.**

 **1\. A quote, or at least a modified one, from** ** _The Princess Bride_** **.**


	5. Chapter 4: Bunny Playboys

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **BUNNY PLAYBOYS**

 _A month later_ …

While Viera weren't quite that rare in Rabanastre, Harry and Mjrn still felt the stares of the inhabitants quite acutely. Especially as Harry and Mjrn held hands. Harry did it partly because he wanted to ward off any would-be suitors, and partly because, well, recently, his relationship with Mjrn had been progressing to the point where hand-holding was appropriate. They'd even kissed, though they hadn't progressed beyond second base. That being said, Mjrn had confided to Harry that Viera ears were something of an erogenous zone, and he had occasionally gently stroked them as they had kissed not long ago. There was a yearning in her eyes, though, that he wasn't sure whether he was ready to fulfil. Not yet. He felt older than her, even though she was actually two years his senior, and wasn't sure anyway whether he wanted to let go of the memory of Ginny.

She was attractive, intelligent, eager, and had a warm nature. In fact, she reminded him a little too much of Ginny, and he felt that to take those final steps might be to try too hard to replace Ginny, or else betray Ginny's memory.

Harry, trying to distract himself from such thoughts, peered at a broadsheet. Apparently, the Royal Family of Rabanastre were all dead. The King, Raminas, had been murdered by one of his most loyal soldiers, Basch, supposedly for signing away the country. Given what happened with Sirius, Harry's bullshit meter went off. Basch had been executed, and Princess Ashe, grieving for both her father and the Nabradian prince she had been married to, Rasler, had committed suicide.

They were here to sell some Viera salves. Officially, that was what they were meant to do. Unofficially, they were spies for Eruyt. And while it was something of a cliché for itinerant merchants to be spies, the truth was that few would consider Harry and Mjrn to be working for Eruyt in any capacity beyond a mercantile one. The Viera were notoriously isolationist, after all. Harry's accent did peg him as a potential Archadian, though.

They had just sold salve to a Bangaa merchant called Migelo, who had a habit of employing orphans, out of a sense of paternal concern as far as Harry could tell. A pair of blonde teenagers, a boy called Vaan, and a girl called Penelo, had stared at Mjrn. They hadn't seen that many Viera before, apparently, and certainly none up close. He liked them, though. They reminded him a little of Ron and Ginny, actually. Vaan had something of Ron's impulsiveness, while Ginny had a bit more sense. He would have said Hermione, but Penelo had none of Hermione's precociousness.

As they approached the Sandsea, the main bar of Rabanastre, intent on getting refreshments, Mjrn said, "I have never been to a place so noisy and crowded. But…it's alive, in its own way. Like an ant's nest."

Harry nodded. Jote had been reluctant to allow Mjrn out, but the Wood told her to allow it for a few expeditions. Then, Mjrn would have to make a choice, to either stay in Eruyt for the rest of her life, or to be a pariah from the village, returning only to report to Jote and pick up salve.

They entered the Sandsea, and went over to get some drinks. As the bartender took their order, Harry and Mjrn heard a voice say, quietly, "You too, sister?"

Harry and Mjrn whirled to find another Viera standing there, dressed in skimpy armour (par for the course for Viera, really), including a black helmet or headdress. Mjrn recognised her instantly, her eyes wide in shock. "Fran?"

"Indeed. Once you get your drinks, follow me."

* * *

Fran was sitting at a table with a young Hume. Brown-haired, in his twenties, with a roguish air to him, and when he spoke, it was with an Archadian accent, or British-sounding to Harry. "So, this is your younger sister, Fran?" the man asked.

"Indeed. It seems that Mjrn has followed in my footsteps," Fran said.

"Not quite," Harry said. "Actually, Jote said that if we ever met you, we were to act as a liaison between you and Eruyt. I've heard quite a few things about you, Fran. Quite frankly, I can't blame you for pissing off from Eruyt. Bunch of stuck-up bunny-eared women with sticks up their arses."

Mjrn was mortified, but Fran smiled. "An extremely crude, but apt description," she said. "Who are you, Hume?"

"Harry Potter, Chosen of the Leveller, as Jote puts it. Death's Bitch, more like it."

The Hume frowned. "Hmm. Well, as we are introducing ourselves, it is most remiss of me to not do so. I already know your names, after all. I am Balthier, sky-pirate. I must say, you are lucky to have a Viera deign to travel with you."

"Mjrn doesn't _deign_ to do anything," Harry retorted.

Fran smiled again. "I know. Or at least she doesn't view it as deigning, unlike our sisters in Eruyt." She then looked at Mjrn, her demeanour becoming sorrowful and lugubrious. "Mjrn…why did you forsake the Wood?"

"I have not completely forsaken it, Fran. Not yet. I have been granted leave by Jote and the Green Word to leave Eruyt for a series of expeditions. After a few, I am to make a choice, to either stay in Eruyt, or else remain an outsider."

"It is a hard path to follow," Fran said. "I won my freedom, but at the cost of forsaking my past. I cannot hear the Green Word anymore. Is this solitude truly a life you want, Mjrn?"

"I don't know, yet. But…better to be exiled and doing some good for the Wood, than to remain stifled in that stagnant place," Mjrn said. "And if I do decide to forsake the Wood, then I may divest myself of one part of the past, but regain another, with you. Am I not right, sister? And are you truly wallowing in solitude when you have your Hume partner by your side?"

Fran was silent at that. She certainly seemed ambivalent about Mjrn's little spiel. Balthier, meanwhile, leaned across to Harry. "So, how did you end up in Eruyt?"

"Well, I got dumped in Ivalice from another world entirely, got vaporised when Nabudis got nuked, regenerated, got taken by the overzealous Bunny Squadron to Eruyt, and told that, because I was Death's Bitch, the Viera wanted me there."

Balthier gaped, blinking, obviously finding that hard to believe. He looked like the proverbial stunned mullet. It was a good thing they were in a relatively quiet corner of the Sandsea, given what Harry said. Eventually, Balthier said, "And here I was thinking I wouldn't meet anyone more insane than my father."

"Well, I am insane, but I also told the truth. Which is pretty insane in of itself," Harry said with a grin that he hoped was utterly disconcerting. "I have a way that you could see the proof that I am immortal, anyway. You can shoot me in the head."

Balthier stared at Harry, once more gaping. Fran said to Mjrn, "Is your companion truly insane?"

"Very much so, but I saw him recover from a mortal wound when we first met. Namely an arrow through the head. Jote witnessed it too."

Fran frowned, before she said to Balthier, "My sister is given to fancies, true, but a liar she is not. Unless she has changed even more than I thought."

"Then I will take your word for it, Fran," Balthier said, albeit with a tinge of scepticism. "Still, as far as madmen are concerned, you are at least more entertaining than my father."

"I'd like to think so." Harry blinked. "Wait a moment. Did your father wear glasses, and have a beard? Went by the name of Cid?"

Balthier blinked himself. "How…?"

"You look a little like him. He happened to be standing over me when I revived from a sword wound to the chest in Nabudis. He was talking to some guy in armour called Zecht. I gave him a bit of a start when I came back to life, frankly. They took fright, and ran like hell out of the room they had dragged me into. I didn't bother following, I just tried to head back to my inn, when Nabudis got nuked."

"Nuked? That's a strange term."

"I come from another world, Balthier, and 'nuked' comes from 'nuclear weapon'. A nuclear weapon is basically a bomb with a big blast that causes sickness and decay to those not killed by it. A single bomb can turn most of a city to ashes, and those are just the little ones. Nabudis basically got hit by the magical equivalent, from what I can tell."

"Huh. Well, word is that it was the Midlight Shard that may have caused Nabudis to fall."

"The what now?"

"One of the crystal shards given to King Raithwall by the gods to conquer Ivalice, so they say," Balthier said. "They're rumoured to be Deifacted Nethicite."

"Nethicite? I know of Magicite, but not Nethicite."

"Nethicite absorbs Mist and magical energy," Balthier explained. "After its capacity is reached, though…"

"Bang," Harry said, deadpan.

"Rarely, but yes. It usually just discharges."

"As the actress said to the bishop," Harry snarked.

"He is frequently profane and provocative," Mjrn said apologetically to Fran and Balthier. "He does it partly to relieve the darkness within."

Balthier waved her apology away. "That is fine, I use the same tactic myself. I have dealt with far more irritating people than Harry."

"You are rarely profane, Balthier," Fran remarked. Her eyes then turned to Harry, and they narrowed. "How intimate are you with my sister?"

Harry barely avoided choking on his drink. "One, that's a rather personal question," Harry said. "Two, we've known each other for maybe, what, two months? Three, we haven't gone much beyond kissing. Four, I already had this 'hurt my sister and I will hurt you' talk from Jote. Five, we're trying to take it slow."

"…I wish that wasn't so," Mjrn said quietly, her hand snaking over to Harry's, and grasping it.

Harry looked at Mjrn. "What?"

She met his eyes with a look of determination he rarely saw. "When we first met, you said, 'better to live with regrets than not live at all'. Jote herself said that the Wood saw that our paths may converge. You are my best friend, and considering that you have surpassed friends I have known for decades, that is an achievement indeed. In spite of your madness and irreverence, you have brought me happiness no other person, save for Fran, has given me. You have given me the gift of the new, and of knowledge of this world, and the opportunity to see it. And even if our paths do diverge, then let me have this to treasure, please. I want this to be my regret to choose, Harry, if it becomes a regret at all."

In the silence that ensued, Balthier leaned across and said, in a tone that was meant to be confidential, "I'd advise acceding to this, Harry. When Viera want something, they get it. Fran asks for little, but what she does ask for, she gets."

"She has you well-trained, hasn't she?" Harry said with a grin he only half felt.

* * *

The two Viera sisters and their Hume friends spoke for some time, before they had to leave. Harry was glad to see that Mjrn and Fran opened up after some slight awkwardness, and he found Balthier a rather interesting conversationalist.

After leaving the Sandsea, they stopped by Clan Centurio, on Fran's advice. Another Viera called Krjn, formerly of Eruyt, was a prominent member. She was surprised to see Mjrn, but the two discussed events in the world at large, particularly those that would be of interest to Eruyt, and Jote. They then made their way to other parts of the city, looking around, before retiring once more to the inn they were staying at.

Harry showered first, and then Mjrn followed soon thereafter. When Harry had emerged from the bathroom, he had been wearing pyjama pants (he didn't need a shirt in the hot night of Rabanastre). But when Mjrn emerged, she was wearing nothing, save for her stilettos. And considering the fact that she tended to dress conservatively by Viera standards (she usually wore a basque-like yellow dress with attached black sleeves, and despite that said dress exposed rather short black shorts, she exposed less skin than most inhabitants of Eruyt), this was shocking. He knew why, though. "…You really want to go through with this?" he asked.

"Yes," Mjrn replied. She slid into bed with him, and looked at him. Not expectantly, but with a genuine sympathy. "It's Ginny, isn't it?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "I just…it just feels like…well, I don't want to let go."

"I'm sorry," Mjrn said, turning away from him, and giving him a good view beneath the sheets of her shapely derriere, with the white tuft of her rabbit-like tail above it. "I should not have moved so boldly. I should not have spoken today."

Harry heard the hurt in her voice, the self-reproach, and he was touched. Gently, his hand snaked out and grasped her arm. "Mjrn," he said quietly, "You're a friend, and a good one at that. You were my first actual friend in this world, and you're pretty much one of the only ones. You're beautiful, smart, and a good person. But if we do this, and things don't work out…"

"I know. But I want this to be a regret I chose to have, Harry," she said. "But if Ginny's shade still hangs over you…"

"She does," Harry said. "But you're right. It has been…five years, since she died, along with my friends. She knew what I was, and she once told me that if I outlived her, then I should find someone else. I…I find it hard to, though. She grew on me, after everything. Oh, she had her faults. At times, she was a bit too much like her mother, and as much as I like Molly Weasley, she was pretty smothering and opinionated. And a bit blinkered, too. Sometimes, so was Ginny." He wriggled closer to her. Her scent was rich, warm, and had a vaguely feral scent to it, and for a moment, he merely savoured her smell. He then gently said into her ear, "You want to know another reason why? You're very like her in some regards. That's what hurts. Because it feels like I am replacing her."

For a time, they were silent, Harry's hand remaining on the warm, brown skin of Mjrn. He could feel his arousal growing, despite his hesitation. Eventually, he gently pulled her shoulder, having her roll over to face him. She had been weeping, and he hadn't noticed it, albeit mostly in self-reproach. He gently wiped the tears from her face, and said, quietly, "I don't want you to cry." And then, he leaned forward, and began to kiss her, a slow, languorous thing that soon burned with lust. His hand cupped a breast with gentle sensuousness, eliciting a moan from her. And that was the spark that quickened things.

Between the two of them, they managed to remove Harry's pyjama pants, and, well, the night progressed from there. It was Mjrn's first time, but not Harry's, and he gave her so many carnal delights that, more than once, they had to muffle her cries of pleasure, lest they disturb the other guests of the inn. But by the end of the night, they slept soundly, more soundly than they had for a long time, Harry especially.

And when the dawn broke, and Harry woke up next to Mjrn, who looked tired, but very happy, he actually felt glad. At the very least, he had made her, if only for one night, very happy. And if they kept this up, it would only be the first of many…

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Fran, Balthier, and some hot Viera-on-human action. Okay, there wasn't quite enough buildup to this, and it doubtless feels a little forced at best. I've tried to foreshadow it a bit better, and I've had it so that Mjrn initiates things, rather than Harry. Much of Harry's arc is trying to move on, and his relationship with Mjrn will help that. I'm sorry if this feels a little forced. I just wanted to get to the Viera-on-human action. That being said, I find it hard to write sex scenes, save for at one remove, or else alluding to them. I worry that I'd fall into the trap of Ikea Erotica, or else some of the writing of more than a few godawful lemons with regular screams of 'I'M GONNA CUM!' and crap like that.**

 **Anyway, next chapter will be another timeskip to Mjrn being banished, and Harry and Mjrn joining up with Fran and Balthier.**

 **No numbered annotations.**


	6. Chapter 5: Exile and Excitement

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **EXILE AND EXCITEMENT**

 _Four months later_ …

If there was one bad thing to the whole ceremony, it was the tears in Mjrn and Jote's eyes. They knew they were effectively losing each other, their sisterly bond reduced to furtive communications privately, and cold, formal talk publicly. When she came back here with Harry, she would do so only as a tolerated guest, not as someone who was born here, and certainly not as the sister of Jote, the leader of Eruyt.

In private, Jote had wept rather loudly in front of them upon learning that Mjrn intended to forsake the Wood. The blow was softened by the fact that Mjrn had laid out her reasons quite intelligently, proving that this was no adolescent impulse or snap decision. Both Mjrn and Harry hugged Jote, and she had accepted it. It was like a major farewell, which indeed it was.

It was, in the end, no real surprise. Jote saw the signs between Harry and Mjrn, especially after the first trip to Dalmasca. Harry felt bad about being one of the major causes in this severance, but Jote admitted that she had been trying to prepare herself for this for some time. But knowing the end was coming made it no easier to accept.

When the ceremony came around, Jote wore the mask of the leader of Eruyt. And even that mask was slipping, giving the tears that were welling up within her eyes. But it had to be done now. Mjrn was always loyal to Eruyt, and her work outside would be done for Eruyt. But to the Viera within Eruyt, she would now be outcast, a stranger to them for the rest of her long life.

Of course, it didn't mean that Harry and Mjrn's work outside the Wood had finished. If anything, it had only now truly begun. They were still to sell salves (which meant regular returns to Golmore Jungle, at least, to pick them up), and to keep an eye on events in Ivalice. And after meeting Fran and Balthier again on a return trip to Rabanastre, they had an offer to join them on their ventures, sometimes having an 'ad' in front of said ventures.

Before they did so, however, Harry and Mjrn made their way to Mount Bur-Omisace. One thing they had been given was Lente's Tear, so they could make their way to Bur-Omisace to sell the salves. In fact, they had a standing order from no less august a personage than the Gran Kilitias Anastasis himself. Alas, even ancient, serene, wise and peaceful Dreamsages, and even those who are debatably the most powerful personages in Ivalice, can have their bodies fall victim to one of those most embarrassing and painful of complaints, especially to those who sit down a lot. Namely, piles. Viera salves worked a treat, apparently, and Anastasis used to pay a ridiculous sum for the genuine article. Now that trade was opened up with Eruyt, he had to pay less, and could even spare some of the salves for the hospitals of Bur-Omisace.

Harry liked the old Helgas (translation: pointy-eared elf-like being), partly because he reminded him a little of Dumbledore, albeit with less information hoarding and eye-twinkling (admittedly, the later was partly because his eyes were closed most of the time in repose). Anastasis certainly had a slightly more down-to-earth demeanour when Harry was around, much to the horror of the priests and Anastasis' attendants, especially as Harry spoke with a cheerful irreverence (not actually disrespect: Harry liked Anastasis after all, and disrespect suggested enmity, he was just an unrepentant iconoclast). He also took Harry's claim that he was the Chosen of Death in his stride, especially as Harry made no bones about the fact that he hated such a role, and in any case, Anastasis had been approached by Death in his dreams. And the two traded tales of pranks and jests: in his distant and partly-misspent youth, Anastasis had been something of an inveterate prankster. Even now, he sometimes pretended to be dead, only to suddenly open his eyes and hiss 'Boo!' at some poor acolyte who didn't know better.

So, in order to cheer Mjrn up after her exile, and to give the Anastasis something to smile about, Harry dressed up as a more masculine version of a cigarette girl, complete with tray held in front of him and hung from his shoulders. He had given the priests ample warning. He danced slowly along the long causeway to the Gran Kilitias' throne, singing a song he just managed to remember (and not doing too badly), before finishing with a graceful bow to Anastasis. He even got some applause, some of it merely polite and done out of obligation, others actually doing it because, while they didn't understand what he sang, they saw and heard the skill. It certainly cheered Mjrn up a little.

Anastasis, his eyes still closed (but his smile a touch less serene and a lot more like someone trying very hard not to laugh), spoke into his mind (and those around him), " _An interesting performance, Harry. But tell me, what is a 'Science Fiction Double Feature'? And who is 'Doctor X'?_ "

"Long story, Your Grace," Harry said. "Unfortunately, I thought doing the _Time Warp_ song might cause too much uproar for Bur-Omisace(1)."

"It did in Eruyt," Mjrn said, trying not to laugh at the memory of Harry giving an impromptu performance.

"There are worse songs I could have done. I will not mention them in front of His Grace, as I am sure his attendants would be mortified, and possibly plot my perpetual imprisonment somewhere within the Stillshrine of Miriam for profaning this holy place with them," Harry said cheerfully. "And those are just the ones from that particular musical. Anyway, Your Grace, we come bearing salves and medicines for you and the staff and pilgrims of Holy Bur-Omisace. Some are gifts, others are priced at the established rates."

" _You have my thanks, Harry, and Mjrn. But I saw your sad dreams, a shared dream_ ," Anastasis said, his smile fading, as an acolyte hurried forward and took the tray of medicines from Harry, and hurried away, holding the tray with trepidation and care as if it held an infectious form of Harry's insanity. " _You have opted to forsake the Wood, Mjrn?_ "

After a moment, Mjrn nodded, her face falling. "Indeed, Your Grace."

" _I cannot tell you whether your decision is right or wrong, child_ ," Anastasis said. " _Sometimes, decisions have choices each as equally difficult as the other. But in either choice, you have people who will support you. And your decision to leave Eruyt has not lessened your sister's love for you. Indeed, it is because she loves you that it hurts. But your sister has to be two people: your sister, and the leader of Eruyt Village. She will always love you._ "

"We know," Mjrn said. "But it doesn't make it any easier. After we brought the salves to you, Your Grace, we intended to head to Rabanastre to rendezvous with Fran and Balthier. Having been forced to distance myself from one sister, I at least can bring myself closer to the other."

" _And you have found, if not love, then a good friend in Harry, Mjrn_ ," Anastasis said, his smile reappearing, and becoming gentle and paternal once more. " _I wish you two the very best of luck._ "

* * *

After some further conversation with the Gran Kilitias, they made their way to a Teleport Crystal, and took it to Rabanastre. Harry shook his head to clear it as they arrived. "Much better than Apparition, Portkeys, or the Floo," he muttered. "At least with this, you only get a little dizzy."

Mjrn nodded, swaying a little. "What was it you said once? That it's unpleasantly like getting drunk. And when I asked what was wrong with that, you said that I should ask a glass of water. It took me too long to get that(2)."

"That's Douglas Adams for you," Harry said. "We'll head to Migelo's first, and then the Sandsea."

As it turned out, Penelo was there to greet them at the door, though she was smiled genuinely to see them. "Hey, Harry, Mjrn, good to see you!"

"Well met too, Penelo," Mjrn said with a smile. "How are you this morning?" It had been early morning when they got to Bur-Omisace, and it was still an hour shy of noon.

"Pretty good. Vaan's got the day off. Knowing him, he's off killing rats in the Garamsythe Waterway for practise, or picking the pockets of Archadian soldiers."

Harry chuckled. "If I didn't need it myself, I'd give him something to help him. With the pick-pocketing, at least. Anyway, how does he view killing rats as practise? Practise for what?"

"For his swordplay. The rats in Garamsythe are massive, the size of a dog. And Reks…his brother, told him to keep up his practise." Penelo's face fell. "Reks got mortally wounded during the 'treaty signing' at Nalbina Fortress, and saw Basch kill King Raminas," she admitted in a more quiet, solemn tone. "He died a few days afterwards."

Harry still thought that something about that affair reminded him of what happened with his godfather. From what he subsequently learned, Basch had been revered as an honourable soldier, in the same way that Sirius, in spite of his family's reputation, was a renowned Hit Wizard and the best friend of James Potter. He didn't say anything in front of Penelo, though. He knew very well that sheeple were far from exclusive to Magical Britain. Even Muggles had far too many. And here, where such lines didn't exist (few didn't have the ability to learn at least some magic), there were sheeple here anyway.

"In any case, we have brought salves and medicines for Migelo," Mjrn said, proffering the box. Penelo took it over to the counter, where Migelo was manning it (the first time Harry and Mjrn saw him manning the counter). He grinned when he got the salves, and waved them over.

The old, blue-skinned Bangaa said, "Hey, Harry, and Mjrn, thanks for this! I have to keep these aside for the trusted customers though, you know. Usually physicians and surgeons. Viera medicines are as rare as they are effective." Migelo seemed to remember something. "Oh, by the way, Mjrn, your sister left a note for you." He handed a letter over. "Apparently, Balthier and Fran are in a spot of bother. They annoyed a really nasty Bangaa bounty hunter by the name of Ba'gamnan. So don't be surprised if he decides to crash the party. He's got a bounty himself."

Mjrn looked at the letter. "They intend to meet us at the Aerodrome and not at the Sandsea. Apparently Ba'gamnan's in Rabanastre even as we speak. This is written in Fran's hand, and she hasn't included any of the Viera duress signs. The only sign she included was 'come as soon as possible'." She looked at Migelo, and nodded. "Thank you, Migelo, and you too, Penelo. Give our regards to Vaan."

* * *

Unfortunately, just outside Migelo's shop, a quartet of Bangaa awaited, all of them rather nasty looking, especially a green-skinned one with several piercings and wielding what looked like a buzz-saw on a stick. Almost instantly, Harry pointed to it, and said, "Are you a tree surgeon?"

Whatever response the Bangaa were expecting, this was clearly not it. As they gaped, Harry continued, "Well, there aren't that many trees in Rabanastre proper, unless you're in the Palace Gardens, I expect." He gently pushed Mjrn behind him. She was no slouch when it came to a fight, good with both a bow and with magic, and even with hand-to-hand combat, but he still felt protective, and he had an idea he knew who they were.

"Still your tongue, Hume, or I will rip it from your mouth!" the green-skinned Bangaa snarled.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry shouted, having used his talk to conceal the fact that his wand had slipped into his hand from its wrist holster. The Bangaa's assorted weapons went flying, with the leader's buzz-saw on a stick sticking into a stone column with a humorous twang. "Manners," Harry chided. "You must be Ba'gamnan and his Merry Men."

"We're not merry," snarled one of Ba'gamnan's underlings.

"And I'm a woman!" growled a lilac Bangaa.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I mean to the lady. Now, what can I do for you?"

"The Viera will come with us," Ba'gamnan snarled. "She'll make a fine bait for Balthier's whore, and thus the man himself. You, on the other hand are dispensable."

Harry felt Mjrn tense behind him, but not in fear. "What did you say about my sister?" she asked in a quiet, dangerous tone, walking around from behind Harry.

"I said she was a _whore_ ," Ba'gamnan sneered. "Then again, I wonder if you're this Hume's whore. Sisters are often alike, and I daresay one is as slatternly as the other."

Mjrn merely sighed, before she said to Harry, "How far?"

"Just unconsciousness. Then we'll drop them off at the bounty office," Harry said. "You want to do it alone, or with me?"

"Just back me up," Mjrn said, before she lunged at the Bangaa. Ba'gamnan dodged, but his underlings weren't so lucky.

Ba'gamnan watched as Mjrn danced around his comrades, using precise strikes on them. "You pressed the 'whore' button," Harry said. "You shouldn't have done that(3). The last time someone called her that, which was some Archadian idiot right here in Rabanastre, she turned his face into a jigsaw puzzle. The man's commanding officer was very understanding, and put the man on clean-up duty, and let us off with a warning. Apparently Viera are rather touchy about that, and understandably so. They like to be dancers, and dress up in very little, but they choose their lovers with a lot of care. Just like you should have chosen your words." Mjrn finished up, and at her feet were Ba'gamnan's comrades.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, before she used a Sleep spell on the stunned (and frankly scared) Bangaa bounty hunter. He instantly slumped to the ground.

Harry grinned as he used Levicorpus to raise the prone bodies into the air. A few citizens, and even some Archadian soldiers watched on with interest. One of the soldiers even gave Harry and Mjrn a thumbs-up.

* * *

A short period spent at the bounty office later, and Harry and Mjrn were considerably richer to the tune of a few thousand gil. Ba'gamnan and his not-so-merry minions would be kept in jail until they could be transferred to Nalbina Dungeons.

They soon came to the Aerodrome, where Fran and Balthier were waiting at one of the lounges. Fran stood and embraced her sister. "Oh, Mjrn," she murmured. "So you've forsaken the Wood?"

"I've exiled myself from the Wood, not forsaken it. I will do better work outside it than within it. For example, I have just dealt with Ba'gamnan. With a little help from Harry."

Fran and Balthier gaped as Mjrn recounted the story. "I can't believe that Ba'gamnan went down so easily," Balthier said.

"They were still a little bit in shock over losing their weapons, I think," Harry pointed out. "Plus, they underestimated an angered Viera."

"I doubt they'll do so again," Balthier mused. "Ba'gamnan is a greedy and base fool, but he's a persistent one, and he does, surprisingly, learn from his mistakes. Plus, he has friends in high places: rumour has it that he is the personal attack dog of Judge-Magister Gabranth. And I doubt Gabranth will allow Ba'gamnan to linger within Nalbina Dungeons." He stood, and turned to them. "So, I guess you have accepted our invitation to travel with us?"

"For the time being," Harry said. "We still have to return to Golmore to pick up salves for sale later, particularly for Jahara and Nalbina. But they can wait. The Garif only use the medicines very sparingly, and the idiot in charge of Nalbina Fortress has apparently forbidden any trading of Viera products until further notice. He's some Archadian dingus who views any medicines not created by Humes as poisons."

"Fool," was Fran's only word on the matter. She then looked at Mjrn. "So…you will accompany us?"

Mjrn nodded. "For a time, yes."

Balthier smiled. "Well, welcome aboard the good ship _Strahl_. And kindly keep the insanity to a minimum, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "I'll try." Unfortunately, his grin didn't inspire any confidence in Balthier or Fran. It seemed they were letting a madman accompany them on their travels…

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry channelling his inner Richard O'Brien, and Mjrn kicking Ba'gamnan's arse. And if you're wondering how Mjrn could have done that, well, one, Ba'gamnan and his merry little troupe had lost their weapons, two, Mjrn has trained with the Wood-Warders so that she could travel with Harry safely, and three, Ba'gamnan is a cocky, overconfident POS who pushed the wrong buttons.**

 **I hope this chapter made you guys laugh.**

 **1\. Harry, of course, sang** ** _Science Fiction Double Feature_** **, the opening song of** ** _The Rocky Horror Show_** **(incidentally, that's the name of the original musical, rather than the film, which is** ** _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_** **), and alludes to the musical's most famous song,** ** _The Time Warp_** **. I'm sure that if he did** ** _Sweet Transvestite_** **, some of the acolytes at Bur-Omisace would definitely be plotting his sealing.**

 **2\. I'm referring to a joke from** ** _The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy_** **about how travelling through hyperspace is unpleasantly like getting drunk. And you know how Mjrn says it took her a while to get the joke? It took** ** _me_** **well over a decade.** ** _I am not kidding_** **.**

 **3\. That line is a reference to** ** _Dragonball Z Abridged_** **, where in two separate incidents, Trunks and Cell make the mistake of calling Goku stronger than Vegeta. They both get a fist to the stomach for their troubles, and are told "You pressed the Goku button. You shouldn't have done that." In addition, Mjrn's response to being insulted by Ba'gamnan was also meant to have a similar feel to Android 18's response to an even worse insult from Vegeta during their fight in the abridged series. 18 merely sighs, mutters "Yep," and promptly starts a beatdown.**


	7. Chapter 6: Excuse Me, Princess!

**CHAPTER 6:**

 **EXCUSE ME, PRINCESS!**

Their first run was to go to Bhujerba, in order to smuggle some Madhu, a potent alcoholic beverage. As Balthier prepared the _Strahl_ , Fran looked at Harry. "Have you ever flown before?"

"Only on a broomstick, believe it or not," Harry said. "And in aeroplanes. They're like airships, only they use petrol to work. Rather messier than Magicite. Plus, they have bigger wings."

"What a strange world yours must be," Balthier remarked, as he checked controls and readings in preparation for takeoff. "Magic hidden, a lot of machines…and you told me once that your people had been to their moon."

"And to Mars, another planet, by the time I was dumped through the Veil," Harry said. "I actually went there for a couple of days' holiday. Thanks to the TV pictures, I could Apparate there fairly easily. Just needed a spacesuit. Wasn't much to look at the end, though. It was a big brown desert where you can't breathe. Frankly, it was rather boring. Nice to visit, but I wouldn't stay there. At least this world has more than a desert where it's cold outside, and no kind of atmosphere."

Balthier shrugged. "Yes, it only has a menagerie of monsters that can kill you unexpectedly," he observed drily.

"I've had a wizard terrorist wanting me dead from the day I was born. Monsters are a doddle. Anyway, where are we picking up the Madhu from?"

"The estate of the Marquis. Officially, I am to deliver it to the Consul of Dalmasca, but he hasn't made any actual pronouncement to that effect. Unofficially, I am to sell it discreetly in Balfonheim, and give 80% of the profits to one of the Resistance contacts there. It's a means to fund the Resistance using a cutout, as the Madhu comes from his own private stock."

Harry nodded. "Something's fishy about him. I mean, besides the rumours that he funds the Resistance. He announced the deaths of Ashe and Basch rather quickly, didn't he?"

"True, and nobody has seen the body of either," Balthier mused. "It's true that Ashe was distraught at her husband's death. A political marriage it may have been, but apparently Rasler and Ashe loved each other too. But suicide does not seem like her, from what I know about her. I daresay she's gone into hiding. She would probably be one of the key members in Rabanastre's Resistance."

"What about Basch?"

"It's more likely that the good captain is food for worms and maggots, but there was something about the man's actions that bothered me."

"You too?"

Balthier nodded. "How did you come to be suspicious, Harry?"

"Gut feeling," Harry said. "My godfather got framed for betraying my parents and murdering one of his friends, who was the real traitor. I just had a feeling something similar had happened. I looked at Basch's profile, and I thought it unlikely that he would turn on King Raminas like that, unless he had a major breakdown or something."

"I agree with that. Basch fled Landis when Archadia annexed that republic, true, but he has since been a loyal soldier of Dalmasca. It's possible that the Archadians turned him into a sleeper agent, but I personally think they may have found a body double, assuming he is innocent. It would suit the Archadian sense of theatre, especially that of Vayne Solidor. Ruthless though he is, he is also a would-be director of comedies and tragedies on an Ivalice-wide scale."

"Not a very good comedy," Harry growled. "Too many people have died. Nabudis, Nalbina Fortress…and Rabanastre would probably be next if Archadia and Rozarria ever decided to come to blows. They'd get caught between them. And frankly, I have people I like here, like Migelo, Vaan, and Penelo, or Clan Centurio."

" _The common people are but ants to be crushed 'neath the booted feet of War_ ," Fran recited. "A proverb of the Nu Mou."

"To which I say, verily unto thee, ' _Fuck that for a laugh_ '. Harry Potter's catch-all cry of defying fate," Harry remarked. The others laughed.

* * *

Their first venture with Balthier and Fran was an interesting one. Harry liked the Marquis Ondore's genial nature, though Balthier warned him that the man's loyalties were very much in question. He was said to both fund the Dalmascan Resistance, as well as funnelling pure Magicite from the Lhusu Mines to Archadia. Harry found Ondore better than Fudge, who was either an obstinate idiot, or an obsequious one. Ondore, you could tell, was an intelligent man. Then again, his attitude soured slightly when he thought, in retrospect, that Ondore had more than a few things in common with Dumbledore. Like the genial mask over a manipulative, secret-hoarding nature.

Harry and Mjrn enjoyed their further ventures with Balthier and Fran, if only because of the company. Fran, despite her distant and detached demeanour, had a dry sense of humour, and once she had gotten over the shock of Mjrn having left the Wood (she had been very accepting of the fact that Mjrn and Harry were lovers when she first learned, only warning Harry to not hurt her sister), she helped support her younger sister, teaching her much of the ways of Ivalice that Harry hadn't been able to glean himself in his short time here.

Balthier, meanwhile, was a jovial sort. While his sense of humour wasn't quite as dry as Fran's, it was dry enough. And Harry felt himself privileged when Balthier eventually confessed his original name, Ffamran mied Bunansa. Harry respected Balthier enough to call him by his _nom de guerre_ , and regaled Balthier with the tales of the Marauders. The Marauders' Map was one of the few artifacts, other than the Hallows, Harry had managed to keep with him from home (thanks to his satchel, something Death granted him, and which would only be summoned if he needed it). A shame that, since he was no longer in Britain or on Earth, the map couldn't show Hogwarts anymore, though the responses of the remnants of the Marauders made it worthwhile.

Ironically, though Harry was over thrice Balthier's age, it was Balthier who acted like the big brother of the group, with a wisdom that belied his years. He masked it with a cool, cocky bravado, but he also tended to be the more sensible of the two Humes in the quartet.

It was during the time when Balthier confessed his name that he also mentioned something more about his father. One of the reasons he forsook the very prestigious rank of a Judge-Magister was his father's increasingly erratic nature. He began speaking as if to a spectre who was invisible. This spectre went by the name of 'Venat', and Dr Cid had become increasingly obsessed with Magicite and Nethicite.

Harry frowned when he heard that. Death had told him about the Occurian Venat who was helping the Archadians. After some consideration, he told Balthier what Death had told him. And while Balthier thought Harry deranged, he did agree that he had heard rumours here and there about myths about the Dynast King. Rumours that painted him as the lackey of would-be gods who used powerful stones like the strings of puppets. He agreed he would keep an eye out for any mention of the Occuria, including one called Venat. If Venat was more than mere delusion, then it made his father's mutterings all the more ominous.

* * *

After a few more trips with Balthier and Fran, and selling the remainder of their salve at Jahara (Nalbina being a no-go area for the two for now), Harry and Mjrn opted to stay in Rabanastre for a while before returning to Golmore. In fact, they were exploring Lowtown, a shanty town beneath the main streets of Rabanastre. Once storage areas for merchants, due to the displacements caused by war, they had become a new town for the underclasses of the newly-conquered Rabanastre.

"How do they stand living without sunlight?" Mjrn mused as they walked through the passages of Lowtown. A Viera was a novelty in Rabanastre proper, but in Lowtown, they were almost unheard of. Harry kept her hand in his own. Not that she needed it: she could deal with any footpad or would-be groper with ease. But they liked the mutual assurance they got from this.

"I dunno, but I slept in a cupboard for ten years," Harry said. "This is a luxury by comparison. Still, I suppose it's almost a prison. The Resistance almost certainly has its HQ somewhere here. Shouldn't be our problem, though."

"I would say otherwise," came a voice from behind them, belonging to a bearded man in armour with a sword on his back. "Are you the salve-sellers from Golmore?"

Harry looked at Mjrn, before nodding. "Yes. We're not carrying any on our person at the moment, in case you intend to rob us."

"I heard of what you did to Ba'gamnan. I would prefer a business transaction to be made first," the man said. "I am Vossler Azelas."

"Gesundheit," Harry remarked facetiously.

Vossler blinked, before he said, "Come with me. But be warned that treachery will be paid for in blood. Namely, yours."

* * *

They were led into a storeroom where a woman in her late teens stood alone, consulting a map. Her blonde hair framed a face that would have been beautiful, had it not been set into a scowl. The face looked very familiar to Harry. She looked up when Vossler entered. "Vossler, are these the salve-sellers?"

"Indeed, Amalia," Vossler said. The name triggered off recognition in Harry, and he began digging around in his satchel.

"What are you doing?" Vossler asked, ready to draw his sword.

"I'm not getting out a weapon," Harry said, before plucking a book from the satchel. "It's just the A-C volume of the _Encyclopaedia Ivalicia_." He flicked through it, before emitting a cry of triumph. "Mjrn, lookie here."

Mjrn realised what he meant immediately as he pointed to a portrait of a girl in her mid-teens. "Oh my," she murmured.

Harry dropped the book back into his satchel carelessly, and gave a bow which Mjrn mirrored. "I've never met actual royalty before you know…Princess Ashe."

Vossler shot Amalia, or rather, Princess Ashe, an alarmed look, his hand almost at his sword's hilt. For a moment, she considered things, before she shook her head. As Vossler moved his hand away from his sword, Ashe said, "That information is not for anyone's ears bar your own."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me, Princess! We got brought here presumably because the Resistance wants some Viera salve. Right?"

"Indeed," Ashe said. "This would be a somewhat obvious conclusion. My people have had you two watched for some time. Harry Potter, an Archadian who acts like no Archadian, and Mjrn, a Viera from Golmore Jungle. It is odd to find even a Viera selling salve outside the Wood, let alone accompanied by a Hume. To my knowledge, it is a rare Hume who is suffered by the Viera of Golmore."

"It's a long story, Ashe…I may call you that? Only I'd get tired of all the 'Your Majesty' and all that."

"I am a deposed princess, so I will not stand on convention, so 'Ashe' will suffice in private. I am Amalia in all other circumstances, though. Informality I will brook, but until I know you better, familiarity and insolence is another matter."

"You do NOT know him at all, do you?" Mjrn asked, raising an eyebrow. "He is known for being frequently provocative within Eruyt, saying things in a manner purely to irritate others. He can make the Gran Kilitias laugh, and his acolytes cringe."

"Mjrn, spoilers," Harry said, with a facetiously chiding tone. He then looked at Ashe. "My loyalty is not to Dalmasca, but to Eruyt Village. It may be full of a bunch of bunny-eared women with sticks up their collective arses, but it's also home, of a sort. That doesn't mean we won't help you. We're friends with a few of those here, including some of those orphaned by the Empire's takeover. And frankly, from what I heard, the Archadians had help taking over Dalmasca. But if we do help you, Ashe, it is because we are allies, not your underlings. You lost your father and the love of your life, and I understand that. I lost almost everything I held dear myself. But I'm helping you for the sake of all of Ivalice, not just Dalmasca. Am I clear?"

Ashe considered his words, before nodding. "If you have any aid to lend besides the salve, I would be glad of it. And your honesty is refreshing. I value my allies, Harry Potter. I do not intend to squander their fealty. Dalmasca does not forget aid offered, or slight inflicted. Be true to Dalmasca, and I will see that you are rewarded on the day I assume the crown once more. Treachery, however, will earn you a meal of a length of cold steel."

Harry fought to keep his expression schooled in solemn acceptance rather than a facetious smirk. After all, it wouldn't do to spoil the surprise just yet that he was immortal, would it?

 **CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry and Mjrn have met Ashe. And while the story may turn out differently from** ** _Ghost of Dalmasca_** **, Harry will still be warning Ashe about the Occuria. Of course, I'm still in the early stages of this story, so how effectively will Harry and Mjrn derail the events of the game is still up in the air.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Mangahero18** **: I'm glad you like this story, and I'm sorry if it seems rushed. I just want to get to the good bits. As for the sex scene, I find myself worried about getting it right. I've read both excellent and abysmal examples in normal fiction and fanfiction. I thought writing about it at one remove is the best way to go for my works, about the feelings and passion rather than a blow-by-blow account, complete with utterances.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: True, Deadpool is an inspiration, but I was more inspired by the Harry Potter in** ** _Getting Too Old For This_** **. But Deadpool is definitely a big influence. Harry's just more handsome and less psychopathic. It's when Harry actually gets truly angry that you'd better watch out.**

 **Jostanos** **: I know that there are, until this fic, no Harry/Mjrn stories AFAIK on this site, and this story is, in all likelihood, the first. Lupine Horror did mention in one of his reviews for** ** _Ghost of Dalmasca_** **that there had been some Harry/Fran stories, but they got taken down. Until I came along, the only Harry Potter/** ** _Final Fantasy XII_** **crossovers currently present were slash, and these two stories were written partly to rectify that. Slashfics are all very well if they're actually to your taste, but they aren't to mine.**

 **Regarding your discussion of that sequence, well, I HAVE seen** ** _The Lion King_** **(I saw it at least TWICE when it first came out), and I remember the lines in question involving Pumbaa getting angered, but I was actually inspired by the scenes from** ** _Dragonball Z Abridged_** **specifically.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	8. Chapter 7: The Twin Dilemma

**CHAPTER 7:**

 **THE TWIN DILEMMA(** **1)**

Harry Potter was bored. Which was why he had snuck into Nalbina Dungeons alone. Mjrn was currently waiting back at Rabanastre with Ashe and Vossler. While she could certainly handle herself in a fight, she also was more at risk in Nalbina Dungeons than elsewhere. After all, many of those in there were ruthless nasty types, and sex-starved too. A beautiful Viera in the midst of all these ne'er-do-wells was basically an oasis to a group of very thirsty travellers, a metaphor that made him uncomfortable even as he thought about it(2). Fran could survive very well down here, given that she had been out in the world for much longer than her youngest sister, but Harry wasn't that sure about Mjrn. And while she bristled a little at being coddled, she at least understood his concern. He was immortal, and she wasn't. Plus, she had no intention whatsoever for being Nalbina Dungeons' Viera sex doll. Enough said.

Boredom was far from the only reason for heading down here: some of Ashe's comrades in the Resistance had gotten themselves captured and sent here. Harry was going to use Apparation to ferry the prisoners back and forth between Nalbina Dungeons and Rabanastre.

It was shortly after getting his fourth target that he saw no less august a personage than Judge Magister Gabranth striding through the corridors of the Dungeons. Harry, quietly humming the Imperial March from the _Star Wars_ films (seriously, it was as if Gabranth badly wanted to be a pseudo-medieval Darth Vader: all that was missing was the ' _HOOOH-PERRR_ ' of the mechanical breathing), followed underneath the Cloak of Invisibility.

Eventually, they came through into a chamber, into which Gabranth proceeded alone. Well, except for Harry, who was now humming _Theme of Ta-Ra_ from the _Metal Gear_ games(3). For some reason, Gabranth didn't hear him.

Harry was shocked to find that the man Gabranth had come to see was none other than a chained-up Basch fon Ronsenburg, who was in a cage hanging from the ceiling in this vast oubliette. And when Gabranth took off his own helmet, Harry gaped, for the surprises certainly didn't cease. The man was Basch's twin! Now, all that was needed was for Draco Malfoy to suddenly appear doing the conga!

Sadly, that didn't eventuate.

As Gabranth (and given that his original name was Noah, Harry had to concede that 'Gabranth' was a much-cooler name) berated Basch for his slights (both imagined and real), Harry crept closer. He cursed the fact that he didn't have a camera or a smartphone, as the images would be great for Ashe to have to learn that Basch may be innocent. But, as the old and very-cruel-to-felines proverb put it, there was more than one way to skin a cat. Eventually, Harry decided to make his move, whipping off the Cloak dramatically and clearing his throat. "Gentlemen," he said, wishing he had a cigarette in his mouth and a balaclava over his face, _Team Fortress 2_ -style.

Yep. When it came to entrances, he still had it.

As both Gabranth and Basch gaped at him, Harry continued, "Is this some sort of kinky BDSM fantasy you've got cooked up here? I mean, I'm all for consensual bondage, but this looks far from consensual, and it looks incestuous to boot. I mean, you guys are twin brothers, right? So why have we got the chains and armour on top of that? Pretty weird fucking kinks, if you ask me."

The silence that followed was broken when Basch roared with laughter, his mirth echoing around the chamber. "By my troth, brother, he has the measure of you!"

"Silence!" Gabranth shouted (rather uncreatively, Harry thought), before drawing his sword, and running Harry through. Typical response of those with no detectable sense of humour, very little imagination, and a short fuse.

"Someone's got issues," Harry croaked, before he croaked. Temporarily.

* * *

Death was rolling around on the ground of the void between life and death, laughing her arse off. And Harry couldn't help but join her for the few minutes (subjective time) he had before re-entering reality. It had been worth it to piss Gabranth off.

* * *

"…intruder got in, but I will cast his carcass down into Barheim Passage, and…" Gabranth faltered when he saw Harry lurch to his feet. Harry noticed that the sword in Gabranth's hand was still dripping with his blood. And he loved that look on Gabranth's face. He loved it when the bastards and arseholes of the world who tried to kill him all but shat themselves when they realised he wasn't. Sometimes, it was worth dying (temporarily) for.

And one thing Harry liked to do after dying was being a gadfly. Or a troll. Depending on how you looked at it.

"Seriously, couldn't you have waited until after we had a date, nice dinner for two, before you penetrate me with your pointy thing?" Harry asked wryly, getting his wand ready. He then cast a Body-Bind, and then, as Gabranth collapsed to the ground in a loud clatter of armour (which sounded, and looked, very uncomfortable to fall down in), looked over at Basch. "So, Mr Regicide, what do you have to say?"

"I am innocent of regicide. The proof lies at your feet. Noah slew King Raminas on the orders of Vayne Solidor, in order to deceive witnesses into believing I did so," Basch said.

Harry tapped his lips with his fingers, before saying, "Unbelievable story. Possibly true. But it's your Princess that you'll have to convince."

His eyes widened. "Ashe lives?!"

"Yep." Using a _Levicorpus_ spell, Harry made Gabranth's prone body float, and he brought the body over to the cage, before leaping over, grabbing hold of the cage and Gabranth, and saying casually to Basch, "Have you ever wondered how toothpaste feels being squeezed from its tube?"

Before Basch could answer, they Apparated…

* * *

…and ended up back at the Resistance hideout in Rabanastre, the cage containing Basch toppling to the ground, and Gabranth dropping to the ground too. Harry found himself faced with the astonished faces of Ashe, Vossler, and Mjrn.

Harry said the only thing he could say, under the circumstances. "Special delivery: One possibly innocent regicide, and his possibly evil twin brother."

* * *

Ashe, understandably, very nearly got stab-happy with a caged Basch, and only the fact that he clearly had a doppelganger in Gabranth stayed her hand, and allowed Harry and Basch to explain. Given that they had Basch's very twin right with them, well, it was proof of a sort. Not conclusive proof, but Basch's loyalty to Dalmasca hadn't been in question before he apparently turned Raminas into a pincushion. This just helped Ashe and Vossler consider his innocence.

That being said, Ashe, Vossler, and Mjrn did laugh themselves sick when Basch recounted the ribald snark that Harry had used when he revealed himself. Gabranth glared at them impotently from the floor, as Harry kept renewing the Body-Bind spell. It was actually quite funny to see Princess Ashe laughing her head off. Clearly, it had been the first time in a long time since she had laughed so hard. Once she finished, it seemed like a small proportion of the weight she had carried since the deaths of her husband and father had been lifted off her shoulders. Which was good, as she often acted not dissimilarly to Jote, as if she had a ten-foot stick up her admittedly callipygian arse.

By now, Ashe and Vossler had learned of Harry's immortality. Long story short, one of the Resistance members got a bit too drunk last night, and was fooling around with a crossbow, only for the bolt to ricochet and end up impaling Harry's skull, much to his annoyance. So they weren't surprised to learn about Gabranth running him through, to no (permanent) effect.

Ashe frowned at Gabranth, considering what to do with the Judge Magister. "I am tempted to slay him, and send his head back to his master for what he has done. But there may be reprisals if it becomes known he was here. Especially if it becomes known that Basch has escaped from Nalbina. But we cannot let him go free, lest he betray our secrets."

"That's fine," Harry said. "I know a little spell called the Memory Charm. I can certainly erase the last few hours, or even make it so he even forgets his toilet-training."

Gabranth's eyes widened in horror.

"An amusing conceit that may be, Harry," Mjrn said, walking over to his side, "but I think that may be a touch too cruel and inconvenient. And you mentioned that that friend of yours, Luna, had formulated…what did you call it?"

"The Wrackspurt Curse?"

"Indeed."

Harry hummed, as he squatted down next to Gabranth. "Hmmm…actually, you know what, Mjrn? That works out very well."

As Harry pulled out his wand, Ashe asked, "What is this 'Wrackspurt Curse' of which you speak?"

"I had a friend, back home. She was very nice, but very odd. She kept on talking about things that weren't there. Or, more to the point, things that were there, but only she could see, for the most part. Nargles were her little name for bullies who stole her stuff. Anyway, when she was older, she formulated this little spell that made people see things the way she saw them. Drove more than a few dark wizards insane. I propose using a Memory Charm to erase everything before he went to Nalbina, and then using the Wrackspurt Curse. Oh, and I intend to Apparate him somewhere far away from Dalmasca…" Harry snapped his fingers. "I know! Bhujerba! Do we have any Madhu around the place? Having him drink some might help lend some credence to what happened to him. I mean, that stuff gives you hallucinations, doesn't it?"

A look of malicious glee settled over the faces of all of those present, save for Gabranth, whose eyes revealed a mixture of fear and resignation. To wit, the expression of a man who knows he is completely fucked.

* * *

A number of spells and charms later, along with a quick Apparation to the area just near Lhusu Mines, and soon, Gabranth would be sleeping off a major hangover, and be occasionally plagued by visions of strange creatures. Oh, and he forgot about the existence of Harry, Mjrn, Ashe and Vossler, thanks to a few Memory Charms.

How would he explain ending up in Bhujerba when he was last seen in Nalbina? Harry went back and did some Memory Charms there as well, enough to muddy the waters. As far as most of the guards were concerned, he had said his piece to Basch, and left, apparently needing a drink, badly.

A couple of weeks later, news came from Archadia of Gabranth embarrassing himself, and only the best of mages managed to reverse the Wrackspurt Curse, though thankfully not the memory charms. They knew this because there was no change in the activity to deal with the Resistance. Instead, he was all but relegated to being the bodyguard of Larsa, Vayne's younger brother, and the nicest of the Solidors (Gramis being an imperialistic douche, and Vayne being a ruthless pragmatist with a taste for theatre).

Of course, before then, Harry, Mjrn, Ashe, Vossler, and Basch held a small party of sorts. Although Basch hadn't been completely cleared of suspicion, Ashe and Vossler had decided, upon seeing Gabranth, that they would welcome him back into the fold, albeit warily. He was on probation. They decided that Basch would accompany Harry and Mjrn whenever they were on Resistance business. He would also be their liaison with Balthier and Fran, as Ashe and Vossler reluctantly acceded to the usefulness of the sky pirate and his Viera partner.

* * *

Not long after the Great Gabranth Caper (as Harry called it privately in his head), they had to return to the Wood to pick up more salve and supplies. Jote received them coldly, at least in public, though once they were in private, she spoke with more familiarity. And she had to stifle unaccustomed laughter when she heard about what had happened. However, afterwards, she did sober. "Harry, Mjrn, the Wood has spoken to me of many things. She is jealous of you stealing Mjrn from her embrace…"

"Yep, Death called it. Your Wood is a _yandere_."

Jote blinked, before continuing. "However, she is suffering your presence as you are needed in the world. Not far from here is a warren of men, clothed in iron. You may know it as the Henne Mines. She speaks of your coming encounter with one of the Undying Ones, the rebel known as Venat."

At this, Harry stood straighter. He remembered Death talking about an Occuria called Venat. Eventually, he said, "And what did she say I was doing?"

"Speaking to Venat, as well as a Hume scholar who meddles with the forbidden, known as Cidolfas Bunansa. She also sees Fran and her Hume consort with you."

"Oh great, another fucking prophecy," Harry snarked, thinking back to Trelawney, who, upon her death, was found to be quite literally pickled. "You weren't drunk or high when the Wood talked to you?"

Jote scoffed. "I do not drink and divine."

 **CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **This one took a while to get out. Hope you enjoy it anyway, especially with Harry owning Gabranth. Plus, that final pun just came out of nowhere when I was comparing Jote to Trelawney (weird where my mind takes me, huh?)**

 **Review-answering time!** **lokarryn** **: True enough, and I fully intend to watch the film when it comes out.**

 **Cormin12** **: Oh. Well, this is for different tastes.** ** _Ghost of Dalmasca_** **is a more serious fantasy drama, whereas this is meant to be more cracky.**

 **1\. This chapter title is a reference to the worst** ** _Doctor Who_** **story ever done:** ** _The Twin Dilemma_** **, which was sadly Colin Baker's first story. And the saddest thing was? Judging by what was cut out of the original story, it could have been far, far worse!**

 **2\. Tifa uses a similar metaphor to cow Cloud into staying in AVALANCHE in episode 2 of** ** _Final Fantasy VII Machinabridged_** **.**

 **3\. Normally spelt** ** _Theme of Tara_** **, this music is perhaps most familiar to gamers as the music for the VR stages of the original** ** _Metal Gear Solid_** **, though it was used as one of the main themes of the original Metal Gear game. The reason why I spelt it like that was because it's called 'Tara' because of the distinctive two notes repeated, 'TA-RA', throughout the song.**


	9. Chapter 8: Family Reunion and Immortals

**CHAPTER 8:**

 **FAMILY REUNION AND IMMORTALS CONVENTION**

Jote's lack of inebriation or intoxication when she saw the prophetic vision aside, she didn't really say what they would be doing in the Henne Mines, beyond a vague confrontation. That could mean anything from an out and out battle to an argument over favourite confectionaries (ironically, for all Harry didn't like the way Dumbledore had meddled in his life, he had picked up the man's obsession with lemon sherbets, and bought a supply whenever he was in Rabanastre). And while Harry didn't want to fulfil a prophecy just because of Jote's say-so, he had been wanting to confront the persons responsible for this mess. And besides the fact that Death had told him about Venat, there was the fact that Cid had run out on him in Nabudis without trying to help. Okay, Harry had just come back from the dead, but it was still rude. What if he needed medical attention or something? And of course, Cid left him in Nabudis to get hit with the magical equivalent of a nuclear weapon. Disintegration was never fun to regenerate from.

Well, neither was any mortal wound (save for a couple of times when an arrow got lodged in a way that stimulated the pleasure centres of his brain, and that one time the Death Eaters tried to kill him with a succubus), but disintegrations were very much in the 'not at all fun' category. Whether it be by Fiendfyre or magical nuclear explosion, he didn't care.

When they got Balthier and Fran from Rabanastre, at first they were reluctant, until Harry reminded Balthier that this might be their best opportunity to get some straight answers out of the man, especially if this Venat was actually no mere delusion, but an actual being. Plus, there might be some interesting plunder in Henne Mines.

Now, it went without saying that Harry and the others weren't going to charge in there, guns blazing (well, in Balthier's case, anyway: Fran and Mjrn favoured bows, and Harry, when he wasn't using magic, had a tendency to use staves, albeit out of an impish desire to emulate that old Daffy Duck cartoon, _Robin Hood Daffy(_ _1)_ ). Instead, they were going to be sneaky about it.

* * *

"I would feel somewhat more anxious about this, had I not conceived worse plots in order to get what I wanted," Balthier remarked as they approached Henne Mines.

"Like that time you wore a dress, Balthier?" Fran asked wryly.

"As I said, I have conceived worse plots before," Balthier conceded. "In any case, it was actually the robes of a Kilitias nun. I could hide my face that way."

"How'd you do the breasts?" Harry asked.

After a moment, Balthier admitted, "Grapefruits and three bras(2)."

"This was before we met," Fran added.

"Meh, I had to change my appearance more than once into that of people I hated," Harry muttered. "Plus, Ginny once gave me a vial of Polyjuice Potion with her hair in it so that we could…experiment in the bedroom. It was…well, interesting, to say the least, especially once Luna got involved. I don't know whether that counts as incest or masturbation."

After a moment, Fran and Balthier looked at Mjrn, their expressions torn between confusion and disgust. "What is he talking about?" Fran asked.

Mjrn shook her head. "Believe me, that is far from the most bizarre thing he's spoken to me about. Although he said that that particular experience gave him a very intimate understanding of female anatomy. It explains his…prowess in bed."

Balthier looked at Fran, before he said, "Let's stop this conversation, before it ventures any further into territory that makes me want to drill a hole in my skull and rinse my brain with airship-grade engine grease cleaner."

"To be fair, Balthier, I don't think that would have any effect on how you act," Harry said with a wry smirk. Balthier had to suppress his angry response in a hurry, as they were nearing the guard post for the entrance to Henne Mines.

"Halt! This is a restricted area!" one of the guards said. "Why are you lot here?"

"We came to offer samples of Viera salves and medicines," Mjrn said. "Given the possibility of injury in mining, we thought that we could supply these to those in charge, for the right price."

"Oh, some enterprising Viera and their boyfriends want to hock some medicines, eh?" After a moment, the guard said, "All right, head to the guard station, and ask for someone to escort you to Dr Cid. He's in charge of R&D along with medicine, though why they let that fruitcake stay in charge…"

The same thought, though unspoken, ran through the four would-be infiltrators' minds simultaneously. _That was suspiciously easy_ …

* * *

The guards at the guard post were a little more sceptical, but after consulting with Dr Cid over some phone system (primitive by the standards of 21st century Earth, but top-of-the-line by Ivalice standards), they were escorted under guard down to Dr Cid's workshop. The guard left shortly after showing them in, apparently not caring whether they killed Dr Cid or not. Or maybe they thought Dr Cid's insanity was infectious.

The man himself was obsessively poring over some Magicite at a bench, muttering to himself. "Yes, yes, Venat. This could prove to be a most excellent source to create Nethicite, should Ondore decide to gain some testicular fortitude."

"I imagine you talk to yourself a lot because it's the only intelligent conversation you get," Harry snarked.

"Hmm?" Dr Cid turned in his chair and peered myopically at the quartet. Balthier had worn a hat to conceal his features, and had worn different clothing to usual. When Cid peered at Harry, he asked, "Have we met before? I could have sworn I saw someone like you in Nabudis."

"I did. Thanks for vaporising me, by the way."

Cid blinked, before turning to face some unseen entity, and said, "Venat, have you done something to my brain? I mean, beyond teaching me how to create Nethicite?"

"And Venat?" Harry asked. "If you're going to answer, could you do the courtesy of being visible to all of us when you do so? I mean, it doesn't help that people think he's going snooker-loopy."

Suddenly, a strange shape appeared in the air just behind Cid, reminiscent of armour, or perhaps the shell of some bizarre sea creature. In the darkness near where perhaps the head would be, a pair of eyes glowed. " _At a disadvantage, you have me_ ," the apparition said in an androgynous, flanging voice. " _I know the prodigal son and his mate, but of you and yours, I know not._ "

"Harry Potter, Death's Immortal Whipping Boy, and this is Mjrn. Balthier, are you trying to catch flies or something?"

Balthier was indeed gaping at the spectral figure of Venat, before he said, "I suppose you are the one to blame for driving my father into insanity?"

" _Into_ _ **clarity**_ _, I drive your sire_ ," Venat responded calmly.

"Oh, Ffamran," Cid muttered in what seemed to be a lament. "You understand so little."

"I understand enough. Nabudis destroyed, Rabanastre subjugated. I had thought you merely insane rather than callous," Balthier snarled. "Then again, you would have to be insane to consider selling your soul to a malevolent spectre."

"Balthier," Harry said quietly, before gazing levelly at Venat. "Ironically enough, if what Death told me is true, Venat is trying to liberate Ivalice from the control of its own kind, though its methods leave a lot to be desired. Are you related to Dumbledore by any chance?"

" _I know not of this one of whom you speak._ " Venat moved closer to Harry, and seemed to peer at him critically. " _The smell of immortality is about you, though it be not as mephitic as one's kin._ "

"Like I said, I'm Death's Immortal Whipping Boy. I wonder who's more immortal, you or me? Should we have a contest? I suggest who can drink the most flagons of Butterbeer. Oh, wait, no, wrong world. Okay, drinking contest involving Bhujerban Madhu! The one with the most brain cells remaining afterwards loses!"

Dr Cid blinked at Harry's proclamation, and then said to Balthier, "And you considered _me_ insane, Ffamran?"

"He's at least entertaining. He's like a mummer who you can shoot without permanently killing him."

" _The antic disposition of a fool he assumes, but he hides pain and darkness 'neath it. Of another world, he reeks_ ," Venat observed.

Harry scowled. "Not to self, must get a better soap."

"I can recommend a particularly good one," Balthier said. "Good for blood, excrement, and Malboro juice."

"Seriously?" Harry asked. "There's a soap out there that can get rid of the stink of a fucking Malboro?"

"Quite a few, actually," Balthier said.

"Whoa. I thought the only one was that lovely stuff they made in Eruyt, and that's not so much a soap as it is a nice-smelling medicine. It's like a Remedy that you rub on your skin."

" _Amusing this tangent may be, but mirth is not our purpose here_ ," Venat interjected, almost politely.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Harry muttered. "I almost forgot about the manipulative spectre who thinks war and mass murder an acceptable price to pay for destroying the influence of the Occuria. I guess I came here to say, ' _Bad Venat! No ice-cream for you!_ ' Oh, and to do this."

With a gesture from the immortal and mildly insane wizard, Venat seemed to be dressed, perversely, in eye-watering purple robes, complete with pointy hat and stars and moons. A false beard protruded from below the Occuria's eyes. A bag filled with lemon sherbets hung from the belt of the robes.

After a moment, Dr Cid began to howl with laughter, along with the two Viera and their two human companions. Venat, through it all, seemed to bear the laughter with only some annoyance, or as much annoyance as a floating armoured shell with glowing eyes peering out from within could show.

After the laughter subsided, Venat said, " _And to achieve what was that supposed to do?_ "

"Nothing. Except a bit of mirth, a bit of catharsis, and a bit of humiliation for the immortal manipulative spectre. Consider that a warning. I dunno what I can do to your body, but frankly, I don't think I need to do that. I'm sure that anything I, heir to the legacy of the Marauders, could put you through humiliations that will make you _wish_ you could die. And if I could do that to you, imagine what I can do to your fellow Occuria." Harry's demeanour became solemn and serious. "I'm not going to stand by and let you cause chaos in Ivalice, even if it's to get rid of your people's control of this world. Oh don't get me wrong, I'm going after them too. And all the other petty little chessmasters of the world who think that bodies make excellent paving stones on the way to their goals. The Solidors, the Margraces, the Occuria, they think the world can be played like a gaming board. Like they're the GMs in this little tabletop RPG. Well, I'm the guy who runs the game right off the rails. I'm the guy who causes a metric fuckton of chaos. I'm the guy looking out for the little people your allies and enemies trample underfoot. I'm going to make sure that history's reins gets put back in the hands of mortals…but I intend to make sure it's without the little people getting shafted in the process. So, I guess this is a warning to stay the fuck out of my way, because, being immortal myself, I can figure out a lot of ways to humiliate fellow immortals."

Deciding to change the subject, Dr Cid asked, "Apropos of nothing, did you actually bring any Viera medicines?"

"Of course. It wasn't just a hollow pretext," Harry said cheerfully.

After a moment, while Cid began perusing the salves and medicines Mjrn was showing him, Venat spoke again. " _You speak of puerile pranks and humiliations for your enemies, even the undying._ "

"Yeah, so?" Harry asked.

"… _If the Undying Ones you would target with japes and slights, then Venat will help you._ "

Harry looked at the Occuria in astonishment, before yelling, "YES! I have converted an immortal near-god to the joy of prankery! The Marauders would be so proud!"

As Harry sang what sounded like some victory theme from some bombastic and overly dramatic video game series(3), Balthier, Fran, and Mjrn shared a look. Said look could be translated to four words that summed up their reaction to this situation.

 _We are SO doomed_ …

 **CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **If you thought this story was cracky before, it's going to get even worse from now on. It just took a weird direction once Harry threatened Venat. Now Ivalice (particularly the Solidors and the Occuria) are going to be facing a reign of terror.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Jostanos** **: …I don't get it. Unless that was from the animated version of** ** _The Lord of the Rings_** **.**

 **plums** **: Possibly to the former, and I don't know to the latter. Maybe Drace will be a victim or enabler of the coming Great Ivalice Prank War.**

 **Highlord** **: Oh, they're going to weave in and out of the story, and, as you say, leave a merry trail of chaos. Of course, it's still just under a year and a half before the events of the game proper, and already, they've thoroughly derailed much of the game's storyline.**

 **Proponent of EVO** **: I'm glad it makes you smile.**

 **1\. Ah,** ** _Robin Hood Daffy_** **, one of my favourite** ** _Looney Tunes_** **cartoons growing up. And with a nice bunch of quarterstaff jokes, hence Harry using a stave in homage.**

 **2\. This is a quote from episode 6 of** ** _Final Fantasy VII Machinabridged_** **, when Tifa asks Cloud how he managed the boobs of his female disguise.**

 **3\. AKA the Victory Fanfare from the** ** _Final Fantasy_** **series.**


	10. Chapter 9: The First Great Ivalice Prank

**CHAPTER 9:**

 **THE FIRST GREAT IVALICE PRANK WAR**

 ** _WARNING: Do not eat or drink anything while reading this chapter! You may choke!_**

The first shots of a very different kind of war began a few days later. Harry and Mjrn returned with Cid to Archades, and to the Draklor Laboratories. From there, they began to plot the humiliation of the higher-ups of the Archadian Empire. Cid seemed to go along, simply because he loved a good prank or ten. Balthier and Fran, meanwhile, had opted to stay out of it, and wanted to spectate. So too did Ashe, Basch and Vossler. However, they got a scrying crystal from Harry, linked to crystals he was going to sneak into the various areas the victims were going to frequent. So too would the Gran Kilitias, who was beside himself with glee at the thought of the pompous idiots who wanted to rule the world taken down a peg or three. And Vaan, Penelo, and Migelo got their own.

The first to realise he had been pranked was Judge Ghis, a rather snide, ratty politician of a Judge-Magister. He woke up to discover that somehow, he now was in possession of an extra head, every bit as snide and snarky as he was(1). After he got over the initial shock, he found himself getting along with his new head, though he still wanted to remove the head of the man who had done this to him.

Judge Bergan, he of the bloodthirsty demeanour and brute strength, began to act in an even more peculiar manner, redecorating his chambers and armour in shades of pink and yellow with flower patterns on them, and declaring himself to be the prettiest pony princess in all of Ivalice. When Ashe saw this, she nearly wet herself given how hard and long she laughed.

Judge Zargabaath got off lightly. His helmet turned into a bunny rabbit, and the metal bow tie-like ornament on his armour could now squirt water. And his sword turned into something wavy, with a skull ornament, and looked insanely cool(2). So too did Judge Drace, who found her armour transformed into a very nice and flattering dress, and a card on her bed saying _Make love, not war. Get married, do both_. A very nice bunch of roses accompanied it, dedicated to ' _One of the few Judge-Magisters in Ivalice with any bloody sense: Figures that you're a woman_ '.

Poor Judge Gabranth, aka the Judge formerly known as Noah fon Ronsenburg, found that every time he put on his armour, he would start making this strange, heavy mechanical breathing. And while his voice was made deeper and more impressive, he was plagued by random utterances of " _No!_ _ **I**_ _am your father!_ ", " _You do NOT know the power of the Dark Side!_ ", and " _DO NOT WANT(_ _3)_ _!_ " And for some weird reason, his sword had become a sort of bladeless hilt that, when he activated a button, sprouted a red beam of light like a blade. It set his bed on fire on first usage, but any enjoyment he got out of the light-sword was marred when a tinny voice would speak up and say things like, " _Well, SOMEONE'S compensating for something!_ " and " _Don't play with it too much: you'll go blind!_ "

Larsa wasn't pranked, but he was entertained nonetheless by the spectacle of his brother and father acting oddly. His brother was hunched over, thinking he was someone called Richard III, and going on about the winter of discontent, while his father seemed to think he was called Henry IV, and was going on about how uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. When Vayne stopped acting like a hunchbacked would-be usurper, he remarked that he would need to find out who was responsible for these events. He wasn't sure whether he intended to hire the culprit for their obvious skill, or execute them for their insolence.

Harry, when he heard that particular line, howled with laughter, and made a mental note to talk to Vayne later, if only to see the man's reaction when Harry came back to life if he did get killed. Preferably with Mjrn not nearby, in case Vayne decided to use her as leverage.

Meanwhile, Larsa had found a crystal ball in his room, with a note attached. It said, _If you want to laugh like you never have before, watch what goes on in this crystal. Yours sincerely, Death's Bitch_.

And so he watched. And laughed.

* * *

In the parade grounds of the Archadian military, new marching songs were distributed ('for the morale of the men', the orders claimed), and it had just about every official seal on it to make sure that the officers went through with it. So, the troops were marched along to considerably more entertaining songs, like…

 _In English class I did the best_

 _Because I cheated on the test(_ _4)_.

And…

 _Gramis has only got one ball,_

 _Bergan has two but very small,_

 _Vayne Solidor is somewhat sim'lar,_

 _But poor old Ghis, he has no balls at all(_ _5)_ _!_

This caused more than a little merriment amongst the troops, and to be utterly honest? After that day, morale was at an all-time high.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Rozarria, much of the royal family were engaged in a battle to the death. Normally, they would do so through political manoeuvring, verbal backstabbing, and the occasional poisoned drink. Currently, however, they were using strange claws strapped to their hands, and wearing elegant masks with few features other than a pair of sinister eye holes.

The reason for this battle royale? For some reason, it was over the names Balrog and Vega(6).

Al-Cid Margrace, one of the few nobles of the Margrace family who wanted some measure of peace with Archadia, was rolling on the floor, laughing his admittedly callipygian arse off. This was one of the most entertaining things he had ever seen!

* * *

In his study, the Marquis Halim Ondore was now dancing around his study, half of his clothes off and the others dishevelled, while he sang a song about someone called Lucy, who was in the sky with diamonds. A bag once filled with lemon sherbets, and a card saying, _To Ondore. Your niece sends her regards_.

* * *

In the Archadian Senate, Senator Gregoroth glared at a senator who had released the most mephitic fart. "Are you going to apologise for such an unseemly smell?"

"I put it to the honourable senator that ' _he who smelt it, dealt it_ '," the offending senator opined. At that moment, klaxons wailed.

"That's ten points docked from your score," remarked a rotund, erudite man whom they had never seen before(7).

* * *

Ba'gamnan and his not-so-merry troupe of ne'er-do-wells had been given a tip-off about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, Balthier, and their Viera lovers. It was somewhere in the gym in Rabanastre, though why they would be there, they had no idea. However, Ba'gamnan intended to turn in Balthier and Fran for their bounties, kill Harry Potter (not knowing that this would be an exercise in futility of Sisyphean proportions), and turn Mjrn into their personal sex slave.

When they barged in, they found themselves confronted with a most bizarre sight. A tall Hume man, dressed in green spandex with a vest over the top, with a bowl cut of shiny black hair, and a pair of thick eyebrows that could have been parasitic hairy caterpillars. And he was looking at them.

"Ah, you must be the most unyouthful bounty hunters my good friend Harry spoke of!"

"Shut yer mouth," Ba'gamnan snarled. "Where's Potter and Balthier? And their Viera whores?"

"Your words are most unyouthful!" the man declared, as if mortally offended, pointing a finger at them. "I, Might Guy, will defeat you, and then train you to fan the Flames of Youth to their greatest heights! And if I fail, I will run a thousand laps across the Urutan-Yensa Sandsea! And if I fail at that, I will do two thousand laps across the Sandsea on my hands!"

Emboldened by their numbers and their weapons, Ba'gamnan and his crew promptly attacked the man. Four against one. It wasn't fair odds.

For Ba'gamnan and company.

A few hours later, the inhabitants of Rabanastre were treated to the sight of a very weird Hume, and a quartet of Bangaa, all dressed in green spandex, doing laps around the city, with the Hume admonishing them, or else yelling " _YOUTH!_ "

* * *

As Dr Cid tried to avoid choking on his coffee at the sight, Mjrn leaned across to Harry. "Where did you find a man like that, anyway?"

"Well, remember that guy clad in red that we met briefly in Bhujerba not so long ago?" Harry asked.

"The one who wouldn't stop talking? The one you called the merc with the mouth? That dimension traveller? What was his name again?"

"Gilgamesh." Harry then looks at the reader. Yes, **_you_**. " _Not_ Deadpool. Don't get me wrong, Wade's hilarious, but he's like a parasitic mushroom growing in someone's buttocks. He's a fun guy, but also a pain in the arse."

"Who is he talking to?" Dr Cid asked.

Mjrn shrugged. "He claims to suffer Tangential Mentality Cross-Dimensional Reference Disorder, or Deadpool Syndrome. He seems to think he is breaking something called the fourth wall(8)."

"And to think people call _me_ mad," Cid remarked. "I bow to the champion."

Harry grinned, and held out a trophy, marked, _Runner Up in the Maddest Mofo in Ivalice Competition_. As Cid took it and peered at it, Harry said to Mjrn, "Anyway, Gilgamesh is a bit of a traveller to other worlds. Would you believe I'm in more than a few?" He shuddered. "Just don't mention Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way(9). Once I heard about that one, well, let's just say that I know how to make the atmosphere of a world catch fire, and one day, I will use that spell on that world. That shit makes _Twilight_ look like _Pride and Prejudice_."

"But what does that have to do with the man with the attack eyebrows and the eye-burning spandex?" Cid asked.

"Might Guy comes from a world where ninjas rule. He's so eccentric, he makes the Doctor from _Doctor Who_ look normal, but he's also a brilliant martial artist, and enthusiastic fitness guru. Gilgamesh had encountered him, got chased by him into Ivalice, and Might Guy's been stuck ever since. That was a month or so ago. I just asked Might Guy to open the eyes of Ba'gamnan and his comrades to the Flames of Youth."

" _YOOOOOUUUTTTHHH!_ " yelled Might Guy from the crystal.

"My sister was right when she said there were unspeakable horrors in the realms beyond Golmore," Mjrn muttered in shock.

* * *

In Eruyt Village, having been given a crystal herself to watch the show, Jote asked the leader of the Wood Warders, "Have we got any popcorn?"

* * *

In Lowtown, beneath Rabanastre, Ashe found herself singing along (voluntarily: it was a catchy song) as the Judges of Ivalice (save for Zargabaath and Drace) sang a strange song. Something that involved people called Scaramouche and Galileo, the fandango, and thunderbolts and lightning. Strangely, Ghis had a good soprano voice, although that was partly because Gabranth had kicked him in the codpiece beforehand.

* * *

In the evening, Vayne made his way to Draklor Laboratories. He was managing to fight off the compulsion to hunch his shoulders, and cry out some idiocy of exchanging his kingdom for a horse. He was coming for a social visit more than anything else, though he was hoping Dr Cid might have some remedy for his ailment.

So when he heard gales of laughter from behind a locked door, some of it Dr Cid's, he felt his significance sense tingling. He rapped on the door imperiously, and waited.

When the door was opened, it revealed a young man in his twenties, but with emerald green eyes that seemed far older than the rest of him. He looked Vayne up and down, before saying, "Whatever you're selling, we don't want any." He then shut the door, causing a muffled eruption of laughter.

It took Vayne ten seconds, an extremely long time for him, to get his brain around the fact that he had just been treated as a door-to-door salesman by a complete stranger who nonetheless was in one of the most secure labs of Draklor. He then rapped on the door again, hearing the laughter behind it die down. "Doctor Cid! It is Vayne Solidor!"

The door opened, and Cid, his face wearing a rare expression of sheer mirth, poked through. "Why, so it is! Sorry, I am currently on holiday."

"In your lab?"

"It's a working holiday."

Vayne blinked, before pushing through the door, and finding the young man who had answered the door packing away some sort of crystal, helped by a rather comely Viera. "And who are these?"

"I'm Severus Snape, and this lovely young lady is Bellatrix Lestrange," the young man said with a cheerful grin. "We are researchers."

"In what field?"

"Applied colorectal psychology. Namely, we give arseholes some much-need shock treatment," the young man said, still with that cheerful grin.

Vayne sighed, as he came to a realisation. "You were the ones who have been pranking us."

"You might think that. I couldn't possibly comment(10)," the young man said cheerfully. "Oh, and before I go, _Obliviate!_ "

* * *

As Vayne went cross-eyed, Cid looked at Harry. "What does that spell do?"

"Alters his memory. Allows me to fuck around with it a little. Like this: you didn't see me or the Viera. Doctor Cid here told you that the strange occurrences are due to a poltergeist who is ill with a mutagenic flu. Oh, and whenever you hear the word 'sesquipedalian', you will suffer from a bad case of coprolalia(11)."

Vayne nodded, before leaving. As he left, Harry yelled, "SESQUIPEDALIAN!"

A torrent of expletives erupted from Vayne. He blinked, shook his head, then left.

"Well, better get going," Harry muttered. "I just hope Venat has kept up his end of the bargain and delivered the package..."

* * *

High above Giruvegan, in the lofty seat of Occurian power, Gerun, the leader of the Occuria, looked at the box. It had a note on it. _A Well-Deserved Gift to the Undying Ones. Love and Kisses, from the Master of Death_.

With his phenomenal cosmic powers, Gerun tentatively opened the cardboard box, only for… _things_ to start flying out at enormous speed. The Occuria gathered around shrieked in surprise and anger that someone would dare to attack them in their own demesne. Soon, however, they realised that the projectiles were far from lethal. But they were messy, to say the least. Gerun realised that they seemed to be like a pie of some sort, only covered in some sort of white cream.

Soon, the thrones of the Occuria were covered in sticky white goo (normal cream, rather than shaving cream, or far less salubrious substances), and while they had sustained no physical damage, their dignities had been critically injured.

Gerun, after a moment, said four words that summed up the Occuria's thoughts on the bizarre attack.

" _We are NOT amused._ "

 **CHAPTER 9 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **No, I wasn't high on anything when I wrote this chapter. Unless caffeine counts (and it was only a couple of cups of Traditional Afternoon blend tea). I did warn you guys in the last chapter that things were going to get cracky. Hopefully, this made some of you laugh. Honestly, I'm surprised I got this out so quickly after the last one. The next one will be a while, and will be a more serious one.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Mathylda0** **: When it suits him, he will do it ridiculously easy to defeat from up close. In a life-or-death situation, though…well, let's just say that you know how Daffy spins it so fast, it's like a propeller? Remember what happened to that soldier in** ** _Raiders of the Lost Ark_** **? Yeah, like that. Harry can do that…with a wooden staff. And yes, he is almost as unkillable as a toon.**

 **Nerdlord2nd** **: I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it. :P**

 **1\. Why two heads? Well, Ghis' English actor is a man by the name of Mark Wing-Davey, whose most famous role is a man with two heads: namely Zaphod Beeblebrox in the radio and TV versions of** ** _The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy_** **. It was weird listening to Ghis and knowing he's played by the same guy who played Zaphod.**

 **2\. Another voice actor reference. Zargabaath is played by Simon Templeman, aka Kain from the** ** _Legacy of Kain_** **games. And the sword I described is the Soul Reaver.**

 **3\. For any of you not in the know, this is a recursive translation (from English to Chinese back to English) of Darth Vader's rather melodramatic "NOOOO!" from** ** _Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith_** **. Long story.**

 **4\. This is reaching back to the mephitic depths of childhood, from one of the first episodes of** ** _The Simpsons: Bart the General_** **. This is one of the marching songs Bart and his troops sing.**

 **5\. Based on the infamous marching song** ** _Hitler's Only Got One Ball_** **, sung to the** ** _Colonel Bogey March_** **.**

 **6\. Given the vaguely Spanish nature of Al-Cid in the game, I decided to make a** ** _Street Fighter_** **reference. In Japan, the Spanish fighter is called Balrog (the name given to the American boxer in the English version). In English, he is given the name Vega (which, in the Japanese version, is the name given to what we English speakers know as M Bison). Localisation issues, what can you do?**

 **7\. This will be VERY obscure to anyone who hasn't seen the** ** _QI_** **episode** ** _Drinking_** **. Phil Jupitus is the one who gets the klaxon in the show. And the man docking the points is, of course,** ** _QI_** **'s (former) host, Stephen Fry. Who has also read the audiobooks for the Harry Potter series.**

 **8\. That was a condition I made up for my fic** ** _Final Fantasy VI: The Abridged Series_** **. SHAMELESS PLUG!**

 **9\. And now, there's a** ** _My Immortal_** **reference. Merlin, I've sunken very low there.**

 **10\. Did you know that there was another TV series called** ** _House of Cards_** **, a British version done in 1990? Yes, based on the same books. The main character in this version, Francis Urquhart, had this as his catchphrase. And he was played by the late, great Ian Richardson.**

 **11\. You know that stereotype of Tourette's Syndrome, where people swear all the time? The technical term for swearing as a verbal tic is coprolalia. Only about 10% of Tourette's sufferers actually have coprolalia, though.**


	11. Chapter 10: Aftermath

**CHAPTER 10:**

 **AFTERMATH**

The Gran Kilitias had not laughed that hard for years. So much so that a number of his acolytes feared that he would either die of a heart attack, or else from coughing up the shredded remnants of his lungs. Fortunately for Mount Bur-Omisace, the Gran Kilitias survived the onslaught of hilarity, and indeed, felt at least two decades younger.

He smiled when he thought about it. What Harry and Mjrn and Venat had brought about was dangerous, but it was a blow to the pride of all of those who wanted to wage war, or else manipulate things to their own advantage. Or else were shown to be just plain pricks. They had been shown that not only they could be humiliated, but humiliated with ludicrous ease. And if they could be humiliated with ludicrous ease, what did that say about the person who humiliated them? Said person, after all, could readily kill them as easily as he had humiliated them. Well, maybe not where the Occuria were concerned, after all: they were the Undying Ones, supposed to be the gods of Ivalice, but events had shown that, immortal though they were, they were far from untouchable.

With some luck, they might be humbled by the experience, though the Gran Kilitias knew that this was unlikely. They were far past the stage where a simple spanking would correct their behaviour, and that was what this was, a mere spanking. Harry was a skilled mage, true, and he was immortal, thanks to the boon (or curse, depending on how you looked at it) that Death gave him. But Anastasis knew that these weren't his greatest assets. It was more to do with his iconoclastic attitude, and his compassion. He had no problem tweaking the nose of authority, as long as he protected the people he cared about. And he had no intention of starting the coming war by accident. Which was why each of his victims, at the end of the day, found themselves with an unusual note on their person. The Gran Kilitias knew what the note would read. Some of them would be customised to the person specifically (in the case of the Marquis Ondore, Zargabaath, Drace, and the Occuria, it would be altered substantially, and Ba'gamnan and his crew weren't even going to get one), but the general note ran like this:

 _To the war-mongering idiots of the world_ ,

The common people are but ants to be crushed 'neath the booted feet of War. _A proverb of the Nu Mou. Those guys are full of proverbs and aphorisms and wisdom on tap, aren't they? Of course, I think you guys have been ignoring that particular one for a touch too long. Therefore, a lesson in humility was in order. Yesterday was when class was back in session, and I made you take your seats, despite the fact that you were squabbling like children, not caring about the ants you trod over as you fought over a pathetic scrap of playground. And that metaphor has officially died._

 _Anyway, all of you are no doubt rubbing your bruised prides and egos and thinking, who could have done this, and more importantly, how can we exact punishment for their hubris? Well, that's the pot calling the kettle black in the old hubris stakes, really, because you kill all these people, just to slake your own ambitions. You think yourselves untouchable. This is me proving otherwise, you stupid, prideful wankers. And think about it. If I could do all these things without you realising I was even there until it was too late, what would have stopped me from killing you guys?_

 _You don't know who I am. I could be everywhere, or nowhere. I could be right behind you…made you look. But seriously, you don't know my face, my real name, my gender, or even if I'm just one person or several. I could be speaking in the first-person just to confuse you guys. I could be one, or I could be legion. Now_ _ **that**_ _ought to get your paranoia juices flowing. Delicious, sweet paranoia juice. Goes well with bacon and eggs, actually._

 _Let me put it this way. Should Archadia and Rozarria continue on its course, well, what happened yesterday will seem like Heaven compared to the humiliations I can put you through. To mangle an old phrase_ , Si vis bellum, para ludi. _In other words, if you want war, prepare for pranks._

 _I solemnly swear I am up to no good._

 _Prongslet_.

* * *

"I daresay you have pulled the tail of the tiger," Balthier observed.

"Well, the motto of my school was 'Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon', but I've never been one to take sound advice," Harry said with a grin. He, Balthier, Mjrn and Fran were in the Resistance HQ in Rabanastre, Ashe, Vossler, and Basch nearby.

"I have not been entertained by such jests for a long time, Harry," Ashe said, smiling. "I have to admit, it does me good to see Vayne humiliated rather than dead. But Balthier is right. The Archadians certainly won't let you attack them with impunity. It is good that you have allies, of a sort, in Venat and Doctor Cid, as much as I detest working with the one who moved Vayne onto his road of conquest." At this, Ashe's face fell into its habitual scowl.

"Venat wants to free Ivalice from the Occuria. I don't know whether the reason why they're called the Undying Ones is because they're immortal in the sense of being long-lived, or that they are actually like me, all but invincible. I'm putting money on the former, myself. If I can divert Venat and the Archadians, never mind the Rozarrians, from causing war, then that's good. Of course, I don't think they're going to heed my little missive. The Occuria are going to be pissed too. After all, they thought themselves untouchable. I just proved otherwise. They'll be trying to figure out what happened exactly before they make another move."

"And given that the Rozarrians were attacked as well," Balthier said, "the Archadians cannot blame them. They'd look ridiculous doing so."

"At the very least, we may have bought Dalmasca a little more time," Harry said. "If we're very lucky, we may have gotten them both to come to the peace table, if only to prevent something like this happening again. Of course, that's about as likely as Vayne Solidor French-kissing your uncle, Ashe."

"French-kissing?" Ashe asked.

"He means with tongue," Mjrn said. "I find it pleasant, with him, at least. France is a country back on his homeworld. Known for fine art, deep romance, and bloody revolutions."

"I'd feel right at home there," Balthier remarked. "But you are right, even a tenuous peace treaty between Rozarria and Archadia is nigh-impossible as things are at the moment. So, what would be your next move?"

"Part of the problem now may be that the Occuria may try to act through Ashe," Harry said, looking at the young princess. "You are the descendant of Raithwall, after all. Death told me that he was the Occuria's bitch. And I know you'd chafe under any yoke, Archadian, Rozarrian, or Occurian. Which is why we're going to make the Occuria a non-issue. Or at least less of one."

"What do you mean?" Ashe asked.

"Well, let me ask you a question. What were the strings the Occuria used to make Raithwall dance to their little tune? What artifacts did Raithwall leave to his descendants?"

Vossler caught on quickly. "The royal treasures! The Dusk Shard, the Dawn Shard, and the Midlight Shard!"

"Exactamundo! Which I am never going to use again in a sentence if I can help it," Harry muttered(1). "We weren't just pulling pranks while Mjrn and I were with Cid and Venat. We were also making plans to cut the strings of the Occuria. Strings which are Deifacted Nethicite."

"Deifacted Nethicite?" Basch asked.

Mjrn nodded. "Your father, Balthier, has been able to create artificial Nethicite from high-quality Magicite from Bhujerba and the Henne Mines, as you know. It has a variety of uses, though the Archadian Empire uses it chiefly for creating airships that can travel over Jagd. I did see that Judge Bergan had put in a request to Doctor Bunansa to graft Nethicite onto his very bones, to enhance his strength and magic power. But Deifacted Nethicite…you saw what happened to Nabudis. That was because of meddling with the Midlight Shard."

Harry then turned to Ashe. "Think about it, truly. Think about what happened to Nabudis. I know you are truly angry with the higher-ups of the Archadian Empire…but are you willing to see that happen to the populace of Archades?"

The young princess, after a moment, shook her head. "But would it not be better to use it as a deterrent against enemies?"

"In theory, yes. But the Occuria, according to Venat and Death, will manipulate you into using it, in anger or in cold blood. The Deifacted Nethicite, at the very least, needs to be destroyed. And the main source of that which Raithwall used is the Sun-Cryst at the Pharos at Ridorana, in the Jagd Naldoa. Doctor Cid has the Midlight Shard. According to Death, the Dusk Shard is in a hidden treasure room in Rabanastre Palace, while the Dawn Shard, as you may know, is in the Tomb of Raithwall."

"…You are asking me to destroy the proof of my royal lineage," Ashe said quietly. "Not to mention my heritage. You presume much, Harry Potter."

"Maybe," Harry said. "But an old friend of mine once told me I have a saving people thing. You'd have liked her, actually. Her name was Hermione. Just as bossy as you are, but a better friend I couldn't ask for." His face fell at the thought. "She was murdered by bigots who thought that, because her parents couldn't use magic, that made her less than human. They didn't have magic almost anyone could use on my world, not like in Ivalice. They died…while I live on, unable to die. The Boy Who Lived, now the Boy Who Cannot Die. I may not look it, Ashe, but I've lived for four times your age, more or less. Age may not necessarily confer wisdom, but it confers experience. And I know one thing I have experienced that you are too: righteous anger at injustice, and with it, the desire for revenge. Believe me, revenge, while briefly satisfying, doesn't fulfil you. It doesn't bring back your loved ones. Mark Twain, a writer of my world, said that anger is an acid that does more damage to the container it is in than anything it is poured on."

"Do you have anything else other than homilies to offer me?" Ashe asked. She wasn't angry as much as a little irritable, though it was a genuine question.

"I'm shit at comforting people, Ashe, pulling pranks on the deserving to make them laugh aside," Harry said. "I spent too much of my life being fed bullshit in the name of giving me a happy and normal childhood I didn't actually have, so I have a tendency to be blunt when I'm not playing around. You and I…we've both had to deal with expectations we didn't ask for. I was the Boy Who Lived, and you were born to become Queen of Dalmasca. We've had to deal with the meddling of others, and the loss of loved ones." After a moment, he said, "I have plenty to offer you besides homilies. It's just up to you whether to accept my help or not. I'm not doing this because for Dalmasca any more than I would do it for Archadia or Rozarria. Technically, my loyalties are to Eruyt, as are those of Mjrn. But in reality…my loyalty is to _people_. The people history forgets, tramples underfoot. People that the Occuria and the leaders of Rozarria and Archadia don't give a shit about. That's who I'm loyal to: the people treated, at best, as game pieces by the rulers of the lands. That's why I'm doing everything I can to stop the coming war."

"One man, against that?" Basch asked. "A single hero may prevail in stories and tales, but this is reality. I cannot deny your sentiment, Harry. But one against history?"

"Well, leaving aside the assumption that I am alone, there is one fact that you haven't considered. Even if I was alone…I'm crazy enough to try." He gave a rather wide, deranged grin that had a few of those present moving their hands closer to their swords or weapons.

"That you certainly are, Harry," Balthier said. "Incidentally, speaking of deranged individuals, is that man in the green spandex still dealing with Ba'gamnan?"

Harry laughed evilly. "Not really…but Ba'gamnan is not going to be trouble for a while yet, I can guarantee that. After all, I finished the visual feed before he could unleash the Sunset Illusion of Youth on your eyes."

"Sunset Illusion of Youth?" Ashe asked.

"Let's just put it this way. Some sights are horrific because of violence or horror. Other sights…well, it's because they are so weird, so unconnected with reality as we know it, that the mind revolts badly. Might Guy's Sunset Illusion of Youth falls into the latter category. Actually, Cid was kind enough to record it for me. He was fascinated, actually, though learning horrific shit's right up his alley. I've sent recordings to most of my victims yesterday, with Venat sending one to the Occuria. I actually checked in on Ba'gamnan before I came here. He's in a cell of the City Watch, curled up in a ball and crying for his mummy to make the scary sunset go away. I wonder how long it'll be before the others watch the recordings?"

* * *

High above Giruvegan, the Occuria, for the most part, were screaming in horror. And you know it's pretty bad when eldritch entities responsible for puppeteering the history of Ivalice are horrified. All of what was, supposedly, a simple sunset. Then again, as Might Guy would have put it about the ancient entities, they had been most unyouthful…

 **CHAPTER 10 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **After that cracky previous chapter, I found it hard to come back to this. Thankfully, I did. Thanks to everyone who enjoyed it. But at least now Harry and company have a plan.**

 **Review-answering time!** **VulpineSnow** **: Mjrn got the barest amount of development in one of the sidequests. I think it was the Cockatrice one. She gets a VERY raw deal in the game.**

 **dandraft15** **: She looked more like she was in her fifties (and a well-preserved fifties at that) at the time, and while their sex life wasn't as much as it used to be, it was still fairly healthy.**

 **1\. I'm pretty sure the Doctor said the same thing in** ** _Doctor Who: School Reunion_** **.**


	12. Chapter 11: Grand Theft and Ghosts

**CHAPTER 11:**

 **GRAND THEFT AND GHOSTS**

Ashe looked around the opulent corridors with a mixture of discontent and nostalgia. It clearly pained her to go sneaking through the palace she once called home like a thief in the night. Harry, Mjrn, and Ashe were undergoing this little sojourn, using the Cloak of Invisibility. Oddly enough, the Cloak could expand slightly, enough to cover up to three adults.

"Do you know where the treasure room is, Ashe?" Harry asked quietly.

Ashe shook her head. "My father told me he would reveal the secret to me ere he died, but in truth, while he told me the rough location, he told me not where exactly it was, or how to access it. I believe a Sunstone is needed, but that is all I know."

"Huh. Bugger. Well, hopefully, that's nothing an unlocking spell can't fix…or failing that, a Blasting Hex."

"I beg your pardon?" Ashe hissed incredulously. "I will not have you setting off explosions in this palace! Tis bad enough that I have consented to allowing you to destroy Raithwall's legacy and my heritage, but this…!" She emitted a snarl of annoyance. "I am tempted to run you through to express my displeasure."

"You can't kill me, you know."

"I do know. That is why I am tempted to do that. I imagine it would be very therapeutic to run someone through if they cannot die."

Harry looked askance at her. "I'd say you've got issues, especially anger management, but that's stating the obvious."

"Quiet," Mjrn hissed at them. "Soldiers coming this way."

"Did I forget to mention that I put privacy charms on us?" Harry said. "The only way they can notice us is if we drop the ball and let those goons run into us. Or if you start shouting loud enough for the charms to be overcome," he added, looking pointedly at Ashe.

Only to get cuffed around the back of the head by Mjrn. "Ow. What was that for?" Harry asked.

"For not telling us," she snapped.

Even so, they huddled into an alcove, and let the soldiers pass. As they did so, they heard the soldiers talking. "…New marching songs are great. I'm surprised the brass signed off on it."

"Well, apparently, old Gramis, Vayne, and half the Judges went barmy," the other soldier said. "Some wanker called Prongslet claimed responsibility."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. I have to say, whoever did that's gotta have cojones the size of bowling balls. How would you be able to do something like that, let alone get away with it?"

"With difficulty," Harry said. "Unless, of course, you have magic this world doesn't see often, an Invisibility Cloak, and a complete apathy to the suffering of douchebags."

The soldiers didn't so much as look in their direction, and walked on. "See?" Harry asked.

Ashe and Mjrn just glared at him, before they decided to move on…

* * *

As it turned out, much to Ashe's satisfaction, an _Alohamora_ to the hidden door actually worked…once they found it. As they moved through the treasure room, Mjrn asked, "Should we take everything, Ashe? These weapons would be a boon to the Resistance, and so would the money."

"True. But I doubt we would be able to move it all easily," Ashe said. "Tis a good thing that the Archadians haven't raided this room, as far as I can tell. Mayhap they haven't found it yet. If they had, I would have thought they would have transported much of this to Archades already."

"They'd be looking for the Deifacted Nethicite most of all," Harry said. "So if we find that…anyway, I have a bag that can hold virtually anything. Including probably all the fixtures in this place."

"Maybe, but the Nethicite is the priority," Ashe declared. "Weapons second, tomes third, and monies fourth. I am not looting my own palace."

"Give me enough time, probably a few decades to study the theory, and I could have this bag be able to steal your entire palace!" Harry declared. "I just need to widen the mouth enough."

Ashe looked over at Mjrn. "He is _your_ consort. You'd do well to remember that."

"I chose to be with him, Princess," Mjrn said. "You can't deny that he's entertaining."

"When he isn't being aggravating, I agree."

"I'm right here, you know," Harry snarked, before opening up what looked like a statue, and grinned. "Here we go. Deifacted Nethicite ahoy!"

Harry had to admit, it was impressive-looking. The Dusk Shard was a beautiful-looking piece of blue crystal, seeming to shimmer within with light. Ashe and Mjrn gathered around it, and peered at it. After a moment, Ashe murmured, "Tis a sobering thought…to be able to hold the power to wipe out an entire city within the palm of one's hand."

"There was no good or evil, just power, and those too weak to seek it," Harry remarked quietly. "My mortal enemy said that when we met for the first time…that I remembered beyond nightmares, anyway. In the end, good and evil can sometimes be determined by what you do with power. I was pretty much at ground zero for Nabudis, Ashe. Being burned to ashes by a magical nuke isn't instantaneous. I had enough time to scream in pain. So did the others. I know because I heard them." He proffered the Nethicite to Ashe. "Can you condemn the people of Archades to that? Or of Rozarria?"

Ashe, after a moment, took the Nethicite and tucked it away. "In the end, it is my decision what to do with my legacy. In any case, now that we have what we came for, we should make haste, and…"

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa…we're not leaving just yet," Harry said. "We're deep within the Palace of Rabanastre, occupied by the Archadians, with the current Consul, some wannabe who's sucking up to that old fuck Gramis." Harry grinned viciously, pulling some items out of his bag. "We are _so_ pranking him."

Mjrn frowned. "And what can you do with newspaper, a rubber chicken and…what is wasabi paste?"

"Oh, Mjrn, what _can't_ I do?" Harry said with a vicious grin.

* * *

It was afterwards, when they had returned to the hideout. Ashe seemed somewhat morose, despite having gotten her hands on a family heirloom. Vossler and Basch seemed to recognise this, and gave her her space. Harry and Mjrn watched her as she toyed pensively with the Dusk Shard. "What's wrong with her?" Mjrn asked.

"She's just gotten a family heirloom," Harry said quietly. "And I've told her she needs to destroy it, sooner rather than later. And I'm getting weird vibes from this…like this is the One Ring's little cousin. If she starts saying things like 'my precious' and ' _Gollum! Gollum!_ ', then we should start worrying." His eyes went over to a corner of the room, and then narrowed. "Oh, you _bastards_ …" he hissed.

Mjrn frowned when she looked over at where Harry, and Ashe, were both looking. "I can't see anything."

"Rasler?" Ashe asked, as the transparent, blue-tinted outline of her husband appeared, ethereal lights shimmering around him.

Harry pulled a crucifix from his bag, and thrust it at the false Rasler. "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!"

Rasler seemed to blink, bemused, before fading away. Ashe shot to her feet, and wheeled on Harry. "What did you do that for?!" she demanded.

"That was no ghost," Harry snarled in quiet anger. "I should know, I've met a lot of ghosts in my time. That was just a puppet, with the strings pulled by the Occuria."

"How dare you!"

"How dare you? Ashe, if Rasler could have appeared before you before now, why didn't he? I…oh."

"Oh? And what is this thought that has interrupted your little diatribe?"

"Uhh, yeah. I should have mentioned this sooner, but…" Harry fished around in his bag. "I mean, hopefully it will work, hopefully. I mean, you might call this a trick, but…well, I guess you deserve something a little more comforting than me trying to re-enact _The Exorcist_."

"What is that, Harry?" Mjrn asked as he pulled out a stone, with a distinctive symbol, like a bisected triangle within a circle, carved into it.

"The Resurrection Stone. The name's a bit of false advertising, really. It only brings back the dead temporarily, as shades," Harry said.

"Necromancy?" Ashe asked, coming over and peering at the stone.

"Look, it can't make zombies, skeletons, or those ghost monsters running around," Harry said. "It's more like a telephone or radio. I'd say Skype for the afterlife, but you guys don't have that. You barely have the telephone and radio, and even those are for the military and airships. I mean, I'm sure you'll call it trickery, but…"

After a moment, Ashe took the Stone herself. "I will be the judge of that. How does it work?"

"Turn it three times in the palm of your hand while thinking of the person or persons you want to talk to. After that, well…"

* * *

It was a rather sad reunion. Ashe not only summoned back Rasler and her parents, but her brothers as well. Funnily enough, she had seven. It was a bit like watching the Weasley family reunion…if the Weasleys were royalty…and the mother wasn't a banshee. Harry liked Molly, but she was a very overbearing woman.

"That artifact…a rather disturbing one," Mjrn commented as they looked on.

"One of the Deathly Hallows. One of the reasons for my immortality. The Cloak is another, and I've got the Elder Wand. Long story short, centuries ago, Death got a bit miffed at a trio of arrogant wizards. The story the wizards tell is a bit different, but Death offered them magical artifacts as a sort of karmic lesson. The oldest brother got a powerful wand, supposedly unbeatable, but after killing one of his rivals, someone just slit his throat in his sleep. The Stone was gifted to the middle brother, who wanted to resurrect the dead and basically cockslap Death further. It only brought forth a shade of his lover, and because he was unable to bone her, he hung himself. The youngest brother was a smart one. He got the Cloak, and actually lost his arrogance. Hell, he was even… _friends_ with Death until he finally died. Anyway, supposedly, when you reunite the Hallows, you become the immortal Master of Death."

"Your tone suggests that that's wrong."

"Of course it is! Gathering the Hallows only really draws her attention! She basically made me immortal so that I could be her agent…and to prank me," Harry said. "Though it doesn't help that I'm technically her great-great how many times descended grandson."

"…What."

"My ancestor, one Ignotus Peverell, actually fell in love with Death. When I said friends, it was the sort that comes with benefits. At times, she kept trying to seduce _me_ , if only to see the look on my face. And I know she does it to troll me, because she looks like my mother while doing so! Apparently that's why my father and I have such strong pranking instincts: we get it from Death."

"Death…is a prankster?" Mjrn asked. After a moment, she said, "That explains so much, and yet so little. But this Stone…it's not a prank, is it?"

"Not by me, and Death wouldn't prank people with fake ghosts, not like this. She likes to think she pulls classy pranks. I call bullshit on that."

Ashe had finished by that point, and was handing over the Stone. "If that is a prank, I do not find it funny," the princess said, apparently having heard that.

"Like I said, Death has a weird sense of humour," Harry said, putting the Stone away. "Did you…I hesitate to say 'enjoy', but…"

"It was…" Ashe pursed her lips, her face still bearing the tracks of tears. Eventually, she plumped for, "… _Satisfying_. I have some small closure. You have my thanks, Harry. Even if 'twas an illusion, it was a comforting one, more so than that spectre I saw before. Rasler did claim he did not come to me. I truly hope that your Stone showed me my true loved ones."

"I hope so too. Ashe, I know it's hard to ask these things of you, to destroy what should be your heritage. Even leaving aside their power, the Nethicite, if the Dusk Shard is any indication, is beautiful. I don't want to destroy such a beautiful thing. But do you want to be beholden to gods who don't truly care about you and your people?"

Ashe's lips pursed, before she shook her head. "No. But I want to know for sure whether I am following the words of a madman…no, let me correct that. I want to know for sure whether your madness is born of benevolence or malevolence. I have to wonder why you are helping me."

"Entertainment. Altruism. Being fed up with people being force-fed shit and told to say thank you afterwards," Harry said with a shrug. "All of the above, really. Of course, our next course of action isn't going to make you feel any better. After all, we're going to be doing a touch of tomb-raiding…"

 **CHAPTER 11 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Geez, it's been a long time, hasn't it? This is probably the longest I have done without updating a story, and sadly, that record will probably get broken. The sad thing was, I lacked the motivation to write more for this story. Sorry about that. And it may be a while before the next chapter.**

 **That being said, I liked that little revelation Harry did about his ancestry. That does explain so much, and yet so little, huh? Seriously, if Death was a sexy woman (like, say, Death of the Endless from** ** _The Sandman_** **), how many wizards would be lining up for her?**

 **Oh, and incidentally, the story that inspired this one,** ** _Getting Too Old For This_** **by ManMadeofLasers, is actually back online after a long period offline. It really is an enjoyable story, so check it out: s/12595819/1/Getting-Too-Old-For-This**

 **Review-answering time!** **diagonalpumpkin** **: He sees a lot of himself in Ashe, like the burden of her destiny and fame, her desire to fight, and so on. He wants to help her any way that he can.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


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